Gold

If there is one thing to be known about James Curley, it is that he was alone. His days consisted of brainstorming in his small home in the suburbs, putting down ideas in his old moleskin notebook. You see, James was a columnist for the newspaper in his town, his column being about the high school sports activity that went on throughout the year. So, when James wasn’t writing, and conspiring about the day he would achieve greatness in the world of fictional books, he would often be found at the high school’s sporting events, big and small, with a pencil and notebook in hand. Despite his mild fame through his column, and the enjoyment that he got from his job, he yearned for the day when his ideas would become published books, and when he would be a household name, rich beyond his wildest desires.
On a mildly warm March Saturday, James was working in his front yard, planting a young tree that he bought at the home improvement store down the road. The area had been suffering a drought, so he had the idea of soaking the ground before he dug. After hosing a small area of his lawn down with a considerable amount of water, James began to dig down into the wet earth. After a few long minutes of digging through the newly wet soil, he saw a small glint of light through the dark brown soil. “What this?” James thought to himself as gets on his hands and knees to further inspect the small object in the earth. He tried to reach down and grab the small, shiny object, but he didn’t accomplish anything. He immediately grabbed the shovel beside him, dug around the object, and slowly lifted the large hunk of soil that incased it out of the hole. As he drops the clump, it breaks open, revealing something that seemed to knock him back. There, lying on his lawn, was a hunk of pure gold, slightly smaller that a basketball.
With great haste, he scooped it up, and raced to his front door, trying to conceal it from any passersby. Just as he reached the doorknob, he heard a voice from behind. “What’s the hurry James?” He recognized that voice. It was his neighbor, Jim Wilson. He was a portly man, whose light voice impediment came through thick facial hair. “Oh, hey Jim,” James sheepishly stated, as he wove. His right hand was held tightly behind his back. “I’m not in any hurry, and I just had to get some fertilizer from the garage.” Jim craned his neck, as to see what James was holding so tightly to himself, “Hiding something, my friend?” Jim said with an inquisitive look on his face. James is silent, and still.
“C’mon James, what’s behind your back? Are you okay?”
Without saying a word, James slowly lifted his hand out from behind his back, and into the view of Jim. As he did this, Jim’s mouth widened, then he quickly jogged back into his home, not saying goodbye. James darted into his house, stuffed the shiny hunk of precious metal into an old safe in his bedroom, and returned to his office.
The next morning, he is awoken by a sharp knock on his front door. He groggily stumbled toward the door, and opened it, to reveal a small perky woman peering at him, and a man with a camera angled towards him. She introduced herself. “Hey there! My name is Martha Suthers from the news; you may have seen me before.” James is taken aback, confused as to why there is a newswoman standing on his porch. “Yes, I watch your show every morning, but why are you here?” She stands back, seeming surprised at his question. “You know why silly, the gold! Your neighbor called us yesterday telling us about some kind of gold nugget you had, and we just had to talk to you about it. Would you care to show us?” She seemed strangely perky, despite the fact that it was about 8:30 in the morning. “Sure, come on in,” replied James sleepily, almost reluctantly. As he opened the safe and pulled out the gold, the face of Martha reminded him of that of Jim’s the day before.
“My God…” Martha whispered to herself as he held it out. “That’s one piece of gold you’ve got there, James.” Her voice seemed to dwindle out as she stared into it.
The next forty five minutes involved Martha bombarding James with questions about how he found it, where he found it, and a couple questions about his plans for the future. After she left, he retreated to his office. He put the heavy chunk of gold onto his work table, examining it, thinking about the possibilities that this piece of metal could bring him.
???
By the end of that week, he had the hunk of gold turned into 3 gleaming gold ingots, which prices were estimated at about 270 thousand dollars. On top of this small fortune, he sold his home and land to the government for about 10 million, so that they could search on his property for more gold. Despite his new found wealth and fame, his happiness and patience were fading quickly. The first month, it seemed that James was making a large group of close friends, who were all very kind to him. They were pleasant friendships, going on occasional trips out, and visiting each other. But something about these friendships was strange. There was an unspoken emptiness whenever they met, something that was hard to notice; something very subtle. The chatter was repetitive, as if they were all leading him on, or expecting something from him. To James’ dismay, he soon realized why these friendships seemed to fade out over the months. As James saw it, his “friends” and “buddies” seemed to disappear as they discovered that he wasn’t going to cut them in on his gold money, they weren’t really friends with him.
Over the course of a few months, the fame and excitement that came with his big discovery faded as well. The exited looks, and people stopping him on the street to ask him if he was “the guy who struck gold in his yard” began to slow and dwindle, and then stop completely. He kept the newspaper that came out the day after the discovery, which called him the “Suburban Prospector”, as a reminder of the day that changed his life forever.
After the discovery, James never wrote much again. He realized that the dream he chased for years was one that he never really wanted. With wealth and fame, he realized, came a big, empty house, and a group of friends that are to busy sniffing around your wallet to get to know you, who you really are. He also found that it brings a yearning for more, a feeling that he didn’t feel for years afterwards.
Nowadays, he is an older man, who lives in a large house, isolated from the other people in the town. He isn’t talked about much anymore, and when he is seen (which is a rare occurrence), he blends into the crowd, hardly acknowledged for his rise to wealth and fame years before. For a short time, James was in euphoria. He had achieved his life’s quest to achieve great wealth, and had a taste of fame as well. But as it all faded, James was molded into an old recluse, shacked up in his large, solitary house. James Curley, a millionaire and a recluse, was alone.