Creative Response Feedback?

[Bluegirl]

I was wondering if anyone could give me feedback on my creative response based on Cate Kennedy's Dark Roots collection of short stories; in particularly, The Light of Coincidence.

Any feedback is much appreciated. Thankyou!

When I copy and pasted the spaces between paragraphs and dialogue were removed so sorry if it's hard to read

“If I hadn’t been thinking about Jung, I wouldn’t have done it. But I sat there piecing the jigsaw together and it came to me that old Carl Jung actually came from Vienna, and here I was at 2:30 in the morning reconstructing it, and I had to give a smile for the hidden camera when I realised that just one piece was missing, and it was a doorway.”

I sit there and gaze at the white plastic bag sitting in front of me. Another coincidence playing out before me. The gift t I possess and good old Carl Jung’s existence present in my life. I know it’s illegal and dangerous. There are so many things I could do with it. I could use it, sell it, or flush it down the toilet. I know people that use, I could sell it to them. On the other hand though, I don’t think I want to end up like them. The $700 I need for debt could be in my hands easily. Quick and easy cash. Maybe the violin will pull through and I’d have more money. My head begins to spin and my ears start to blur so I lay my head down on the comfortable, soft pillow and close my eyes.
   
I dream. . I’m in more debt than I previously was.  My mouth is dry, pupils constricted, not like  the person I used to be. The world that surrounds me is distant and my colleagues notice changes in my personality. Sometimes I’m alert and conscious of everything, other times I’m down, dull and lifeless. I don’t make eye contact to anyone. I realise that my negative self-esteem isn’t good and   my work has gone downhill. Effects of heroin right there . Quick, disastrous  , harmful and life-changing. I always want more but can’t have it.

I wake up with sweat dripping off me. I wipe my forehead with the back of my wrist. The sun shines in from my drapes and the morning ready to encapsulate my life. I hear cars buzzing  along the streets of  the road below my apartment. I don’t mind it, my lifestyle accepts it. It’s part of being a salesman and business manager. I can afford to live in a place like this. Sometimes I get lonely but it’s good living this life. It’s private, I have a fair income and with that comes  self-satisfaction.

I hear a knock on my door. This early? Must be someone with guts. I make my way over and peer into the peephole. There’s a man standing there, a familiar face, Matt.
“Hey bud, what’s going on?”
“Not too much, just thought you’d like to go out for a beer tonight?”
“Yeah sure, sounds good! I’ll see you at  Revolver at 7?”
“Awesome, catch you there.”

The heroin still sits where I placed it last night, on top of my mantel piece.  That fine, white powder. Who knows how strong it is. Who knows how it got in the puzzle box. Who knows where it came from. All I know is that it’s a coincidence made for me.

For the rest of the day I catch myself thinking about it. It’s sitting there just being unused. 7 o’clock rolls around and I walk into the pub to see Matt already drinking.  I glance around the room. I could approach any one of these people and ask if they want the heroin. It’s as easy as that; easy but wrong. . I could get caught. I’ve never dealt drugs before. It’s not something I would usually do. Knowing my luck the moment I approach someone the police will turn up and drug search everyone.  Just like getting pulled over the day my car rego runs out. The light of coincidence.

Matt and I gulp down beers like there’s no tomorrow.
“Hey Matt, listen. Don’t repeat this conversation, okay?”
“Sure bud.”
“Okay so here’s thing. I need to offload a bag of white heroin. Know anyone?”
“Geez, now now. That’s not something I want to get involved with, ya know?”
“Yeah yeah, I get ya. You’re like me and most of our other friends, don’t go near that stuff. I understand.”

The night progresses and I decide I’ve had enough. Intoxicated and slightly incoherent, I wonder home through the night. The stars out, moon shining.  Passing other people out enjoying the night, many of them young and making the most of their age. Wish I could do that. The moon glistens up in the night sky. White moon; it brightens my mood. White heroin; it could brighten someone else’s mood. I just need to work out how. I’m such a bad liar, couldn’t lie to save my life. But helping someone is a good thing, so isn’t it worth it?

I continue to stroll into the night, in no hurry to go home. Despite the Melbourne CBD being lively and full of people it is somewhat comforting. Out of the corner of my eye I notice movement in the dark shadows near a dumpster bin. No one else notices, and no one else really cares. They’re too wrapped up in their own business and usually I would be one of them too. Tonight I’m different though. I have a mission. Heroin has opened my eyes up to the world I live in, and the world that others live in. Same world, but different lives . The life I live has kept me comfortable but not necessarily aware. I’ve been ignorant, I guess.

 Taking  action, and slowly moving over to where I saw motion,  the realisation dawns on me that it’s someone sleeping there. Someone is sleeping next to a dumpster, full of diseases and parasites, rubbish and germs. It’s grotty and unclean.  She looks very skint . I look closer and I spot  a woman. She’s middle aged, looks worn out; exhausted. A thin ratty blanket barely covers her.  It hits me. This is what I can use my money on. I can improve this woman’s life. 
I pick up my pace and hurry home. It’s too late to do anything now so I sleep.

 I wake up in the morning, put on my best business suit, a black one with a blue tie, and find the suitcase that was gifted to me but that has barely been used. I place the tightly sealed heroin bag inside, and cover it with some papers that are from my desk. After looking up a few numbers in the phonebook, old acquaintances that went off the rails, skimming the pages, finding them and scribbling down their addresses, I’m off, and no one can stop me, I hope.
First stop is a rundown, scummy unit on the rough side of town. I knock and no one answers but moans escape the open windows in a back room. Eh stuff them. Looks too rough, they’re probably overdosing right now.
At the next place, knocking on the door brings a thin, pail woman a few metres from me.
“Hey, long time no see, what’s doing?

“Hey Candice, yeah I know. I was wondering if you could do me a favour? Works in your favour too?”
“Yeah sure , I’ll see what I can do, come in.”
“Okay well… In my suitcase here I have a bag of heroin, and I was wanting to do a good deed with the money if I could get rid of it. Could you help?”
“Show me?”

Opening the suitcase causes the heroin bag to reflect in the sunlight. I can see from the look on Candice’s face that she’s interested
“Like what you see?”
“Of course, it’s mint. how much?”
Well I was hoping roughly $700. That fair?
“Yeah, done. Let me arrange a few things and I’ll meet you around the corner in 20 minutes, near the 7 11.”

Making my way to the corner shop, I place my suitcase on the footpath next to me and wait.
Five minutes pass and I see Candice eagerly walking up the path  I had just walked. She comes over, smiles in a friendly way and asks if she can have the suitcase.
“Sure, look after it, they’re important documents.”
“Here are the documents you wanted” She passes me an envelope that has my name on it.
“Thanks, see you around.”
Feeling accomplished and richer than normal, the homeless woman pops into my mind again. She’s probably there now; cold and hungry, hopeless and desolate. I really feel for her
Later on, the lady is still there when I approach the dumpster but this time she’s awake. She stays silent and peers at me cautiously, ready to run if she has to.

“It’s okay, I’m here to help. I have something for you. I’ve got some money that I thought you could use. It was synchronicity that I ended up selling something I found to get this money. Carl Jung if a great man, I think he’s present in my life in a weird and meaningful way.”

“But anyway that’s irrelevant. Here, it’s up to you what you want to do with it. But I suggest you buy some new clothes and food that will last. Even accommodation somewhere such as a homeless shelter or you could find an organisation that could help. I hope it comes to good use.”

I walk away feeling a sense of satisfaction. Feeling proud and empowered. In the distance I hear sirens, and an automatic gasp escapes me. I sit down on an old dirty bench and wait not really knowing why. I guess with the coincidences in my life I just expect these things to happen to me. The police car slowly arrives. Someone must have dobbed me in. Probably someone who knew Candice.

“You’re under arrest, sir. Anything you do or say can be held against you.
Disorientated, an unexpected image flashes into my head, It’s an image of white powder. An image of a bag under the woman near the dumpster. An image of heroin. The light of coincidence.