Of Mice and Men - Chapter 7 (GCSE extended story)

In my GCSE coursework (assignment) I was told to write an extended piece on John Steinbeck's novel, Of Mice and Men. I would appreciate any and all opinions on this, please be as critical as you want.

Of Mice and Men: Chapter 7

The bunkhouse is empty. Devoid of all life. Apart from two separate entities inhabiting the dark, morbid place. The sound of the wind brushing against the walls echoing throughout the bunkhouse. The dust emulates the light bouncing off every particle, giving each dust particle a sense of unique individuality. The sand dances across the floor in perfect synchronisation like a dance performance at the royal Albert hall. The wooden walls, dark and moist sit there unmoving, unblinking… Reflecting back the depressing emotion resonating from the beings occupying the bunkhouse. George and Slim sit there unmoving, unblinking only breathing the heavy, thick California air. It’s pay day.

“It’s been almost a month, George,” The sound of Slims voice breaks the silence that had been hanging in the room for 10 minutes before. However, George remains still. Fixated on Lennie’s bed, untouched since the fateful day. The bed was still unmade, the covers waving around like the waves on the lake Lennie looked upon as he took his life. “You gotta try and forget about it.”

“Forget?” George snaps back at Slim like a knife throw cutting through the air, “How the hell do you expect me to forget what I did? Well! Come on then Slim, I’m all ears.” George’s small rant hung in the air for a while before Slim slumped back into his chair knowing that he wasn’t going to get anywhere by arguing with George. George gets up and leaves.

“He needs to get over it.” Slim mumbles to himself.

George walks through the farm lands, taking in his surroundings, feeling the sun on his skin and feeling the breeze through his hair. The world seemed quiet and peaceful; more than before. He thinks back that night with all the noise, so much noise of men, horses, wood. Yet today seemed early quiet, nothing he had ever felt before. He felt as if no one other than him existed in the whole of the world, he was alone with only he thoughts and his memories. Unfortunately, all that consisted of was Lennie and he innocent child like persona always managing to bring a smile to George’s face even the bleakest adversity. Georges face cracks a smile and a tear of both joy and sadness rolls down his cheek, onto his chin eventually falling to earth. It was so quiet you could hear the drop hit the ground with a faint splash.

George finally breaks from his trace and finds himself at the lake, the lake where it happened. He didn’t intend to come here in fact, he swore to himself that he would never return here for the rest of days. In spite of that, his subconscious mind brought him here but why? Why would his own mind wish to bring back a flood of memories that he had attempted to rip from his subconscious for the past 6 months. Why? He feels himself breaking down, he tries to force back the flood gates but to no avail. His own mind is leaking all the emotion he had been hiding for months all over the place at which he shot his one friend, his only true friend. He’s kneeling down, head in hands, heart on the sleeve. Then out of nowhere he feels a hand on his shoulder. In a fraction of second he stands up with his fists ready to start knocking some sense into this mysterious person who dare see him like this. Then, his fist loosens and his eyes get wider. It couldn’t be. It can’t be. George rubs his eyes in a frenzy to wipe the image from his retinas yet, there it still is. He runs over the lake and starts the throwing the water into his face, he wanted to wash this image from the mind.

“George?” says the figure. George plunges his head under water covering his ears screaming that he wakes himself up from this nightmare. He looks back up, praying that it had gone. However, God was not on his side in this situation.

“George?” repeated the figure, “What’s wrong George?” George can’t utter his word. He stares at the towering figure; 6ft 8, towering over George. The voice brings back all those memories, the good ones, the bad one.

“L… Lennie?” Stutters George as his mind is still trying to comprehend the situation before him.

“Did you miss me George?” asks Lennie in his childish, simple voice.

“Dear God, Lennie!” George announces as he runs over to him to hug his best friend. He had never felt a happiness like it, his brain was over flowing with all kinds of emotion that he hadn’t felt for months pouring out of him in droves of tears rolling down his face. Yet it was short lived. After lunging to Lennie expecting his friend to catch him in his arms, he falls straight through him. Landing in the thorn bush behind him cutting open his shoulder. He can feel the pain coursing its way through his body, reaching his brain. He feels the cold, thick blood run down his arm onto his hand and hitting the ground with a light splash. This isn’t a dream.

“You… You’re not here?” George speaks in a voice mixed with fear and confusion.

“No George, I am not.” says Lennie, “I am just a conception of Lennie, built with the pieces of him you keep stored away in the back of your mind.” George was in utter shock of how elegant and intellectual Lennie just spoke to him, however still speaking in his childish voice.

“But Lennie never talk like dat?” George states curiously, “How could you be Lennie from my thoughts but be all smart?”

“Simple George, your subconscious mind chooses not to fabricated my half-wittedness into this from you see, instead you subconsciously wish to fabricate me as an intelligent yet still kind hearted soul. The friend you always wished you had.”

“I never wanted Lennie to be like this!” George announces in protest.

“Oh on the contrary, you mind doesn’t lie to you. This is how you always wanted me. I’m sorry George, there’s no denying that.” George is speechless. Could this really be the kind of person he always wanted Lennie to be? It can’t be true, but it is. Every time Lennie did something stupid he just couldn’t bare his stupidity; he wanted a friend he could always rely on.

“If you’re so smart?” George says in a questioning manner, “What’s 7 multiplied by 8?” Lennie was never good a maths; George wasn’t any good either he only knew the answer to this question because he would constantly ask Lennie in a desperate attempt to get him smart somehow.

“Haha,” Lennie just chuckles “It’s 56, seriously George I am almost insulted you doubt me that much. Try and give me a harder one.” George didn’t know any other maths questions.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” George says with a slight anger to his voice.

“Well it’s obvious, you weren’t really that much smarty than I was. You just had common sense as your abet in many situations.”

“That’s not true!” George shouts in retort.

“Okay then George, what’s 5 multiplied by 4?” George thinks for a moment. He starts to count the numbers in his head but to no avail. That all get mixed up in a big slosh of numbers and symbols in his head.

“I don’t know.” George mutters under his breath.

“Just as I had suspected. You not smart at all. You only stuck around with me as you believed it made people perceive you as a smart individual looking out for his mentally challenged friend. You used me as a sheep, making me do all the heavy lifting both physically and figuratively.” Anger begins to build up inside George, the words coming from his deceased friend cut deep like bullet in the head from point blank range.

“I was nothing to you! My former self couldn’t see this however I can. I can now see through the lies and the ‘friendship’ I thought I once had with you. Let me ask you this George, how many times did you think about putting a bullet in my head before that night?”

The question burns George mentally. George couldn’t bring himself to think of the answer but they both knew the answer.

“Every night wasn’t it. How easy it would’ve been, just to put me down there and then. No more hurt, no more burden, no more dead weight.” Lennie’s voice begins to sound dark, menacing like it each word crawled straight out the depths of hell and are burying their way into George’s soul. An overwhelming feeling of dread consumes George. He speaks the truth.

“I will go now,” Lennie’s voice had returned to his normal tone, childish, innocent. “I want you to remember these words for the rest of your days, I want them to haunt you every night, I want them to burn into your subconscious so deep that every thought you have will be altered by this declamation. Goodbye George.”

And with a gust of wind he was gone. George just sitting there, dead silent, looking onto the ominous forest before turning to look at the lake. The moon is reflecting a silver shadow across the lake, beautiful. The lake is still leading onto over the horizon, infinitely. The wind blows through the hills onto George, cold. A single tear begins to fall from his right eye, leading down to the bottom of his chin before falling to the damp floor, adding to his blood. George looks at his hands.

“What kind of person am I?” He is a monster, he treated Lennie like dog and when he decided he wasn’t fit, he put him down like a dog. How could he have done this?

“I am a monster!” He no longer felt the pain the in his shoulder, his body had gone cold. His eyes were full of tears and his arm was dripping with blood. He reaches behind him and pulls out a pistol he kept tucked away behind his shirt. The metal cool to touch. Quickly warmed up from the warmth of his blood on his hand he gripped it tight. The icy feeling of metal consumed one side of head as he pressed against his brain. He is not going to live with the feeling of guilt for the rest of life. With tears stream down his face and his heart seeming as if it’s going to burst out his chest he whispers….

“I’m sorry Lennie.” And he pulls the triggers.

The bang is heard for miles. The sounds rolling over the hills and the valleys. Birds flee from their nests and rabbits run from their homes in fear. George’s body drops into the cold, silver lake; with a light splash. Floating away, Lennie can’t haunt him anymore.

Author's Note

Please be as critical as you wish, all opinions and feedback will help me greatly. Thank you.