The Conclusion of “Lost”

I already know the ending of ABC’s Wednesday night hit “Lost”, because when I was 10 years old I wrote a rapture novel called “Who is The Master” in which the cast of characters survives a shipwreck on an unknown island where they are tortured by an unseen entity (who speaks in CAPITAL LETTERS because I was that subtle) who is called The Master.

And when ABC reconciles this whole adventure by having the principles realize they are dead, or in Limbo, or the world beyond their island has been destroyed, [you see, once were Lost… but now are Found…] I will show up in the courtroom with my typewritten (erasable bond) pages and demand restitution. If Dan Brown can be held accountable, then so can Touchstone Television. [Touchstone? Was Alpha-Omega taken? ]

I have always referred to WiTM as my first novel, though neither word in that phrase is true. [I have never before referred to it as WiTM, but it is just too embarrassing to continue to write the title]. In fact, it was the 2nd of my long-form attempts, and is only 30 typed pages.

It, and all its drafts, reside in a plastic covered clipboard/folder that the 3 Spirit of ’76 guys in a Peter Max-y kind of design, and the dates 1776-1976 in Continental CongreFF font. Looking at it is both delightful and excruciating. I reworked this minor opus until 1978, according to “4th edition” notes in this archive. After that I began a modern John Jakes family style epic I can not speak painlessly about.

Our story takes place in 1991, which was, like, way in the future – a place I knew only got worse, even though I hadn’t yet seen the fall of Saigon, which kept me awake most of the summer of 75.

Real line: I was captured along with other men and women of all races. [how Noah’s Ark of you. This ought to be good.] There were whites, blacks, mexicans [small m], Europeans, Russians, Indians, Asians, Australins. [you heard me.]

Here, then, I build my plagarism case:
Our narrator is Jim [as in, “dammit, Jim!” On Lost, this is Dr Jack Sheppard, our eyes and ears. Our shepherd…for the first 40 days… does your head hurt from being hit yet?].

WiTM’s Jim is 25, in that knack I have for always writing beyond my own life experience, guaranteeing that the later read will be cringe-worthy. Touchstone is wise enough to know that 25 year old boys may lead on the gridiron, but on the desert island, it turns all pig heads on sticks. You need an older leader.

Jim is an existentialist, who has daydreams that he calls “flashbacks.” He says Everyman things like, Excitement doesn’t come often around here, but when it does, it’s usually good.

He was traveling with his childhood friend Brian, who will lose a leg later in the story. We learn his father used to beat him up all the time, so, you know, he’s used to it. I can’t decide if he is Sawyer or Sayid. He is dark brooding boy-with-secrets, also my obvious Christ figure when he consents to an amputation with “It’s all right with me.”

The surgery is conveniently performed by Dr. Rocque, played on ABC as Libby (Are you REALLY a psychologist?) There is some element of Locke, though, as well, as the Dr. is the wiser older man among the youngsters. [Rocque/Locke – you see how they did me?] My child’s vast medical research: “You see, if the bullet stays in there any longer, it may corrode. Then the lead will go into your bloodstream and you’ll get blood poisoning."

What's funnier: "You see..." or "corrode"?

Dr Rocque also gets to deliver Cathy’s baby. She is the only woman in the story at all, and has the annoying useless female habit of showing up pregnant when you’re stranded on an island. (Claire, this means you.)

In a Pulitzer speech-ready paragraph, Jim describes the arrival of the story’s anti-hero Mason: Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. His terrified eyes searched the camp.

Mason's Lost counterpart is Michael, once rival/now friend of Jim [Jack]. (Michael the archangel, slayer of dragons and such) It is Mason who is determined to find out the Truth. By the way, if you ask who The Master is, as Mason does, they beat you in the face with a bullwhip. I had a Louisa Mae Alcott streak cum Alfred Hitchcock & the Three Investigators.

There is a sympathetic guard named Solomon, who may be Mr. Eko, but this is where I admit I haven’t actually watched the show. I must keep my experience pure in order to successfully score my nest egg from ABC and its co-respondents.

And once I prove any one of them went to Virginia Avenue Elementary, it is Go Time.