Gatsby Alternate Ending

THAT ONE FINE MORNING was, surprisingly, not the end of everything. It was replicated and enhanced in a way that shattered every bit of the world that existed in my imagination. It was roughly four years after Gatsby’s mansion became uninhabited when a smack across my cheeks awakened me from my monotonous stockbroker lifestyle in Minnesota. When I unconsciously covered my face in immense pain, the sheer darkness around me was adulterated with this silent sound of a steady drizzle. Stunned, I felt as if it was fire instead of raindrops that was consuming my house. Standing before me was a silent figure that could well be part of the “fire.” “You are going to New York City this morning, old sport,” said the figure. “Will you answer some of
Gatsby Alpha. You are to help me gain redemption, for my twin brother Beta’s demise six years ago. Now come with me, old sport.” “Why New York?” There was no response other than a gesture that indicated immediate departure. Perhaps because I was tired of the static passage of time in Minnesota, or because I felt a righteous indignation about Gatsby’s death, or, I should say, Gatsby Beta’s death, I acquiesced to this adventure back to the East. But many of my questions were left unanswered: Why was Gatsby Beta’s twin brother so eager to find me? How and why did he have such a keen desire to redeem himself and his
In fact, we have talked many times before. I was in charge of the rum businesses and the stock market trades; Beta focused on the social interactions. That’s how we amassed our wealth so quickly. We never appeared at the same time, of course. The world only knew half of me and half of Beta. But we both fell in love with Daisy. Unfortunately, I did not have time to inform Beta of the car incident that night. Then the tragedy occurred.” “I’m sorry.” I did not inquire more about Gatsby Alpha’s life. It was merely an unrelated event to me, after all.

Daisy lived on the twenty-fifth floor, the top floor of the building. The door to her apartment was ajar. Clearly she had already been expecting a visit. Gatsby Alpha and I walked straight through the door and saw Daisy lying on her gaudy couch, curling up under a thin blanket. Eager to complete my mission, I immediately cried, “I am unbelievably disappointed that you betrayed Gatsby. You deserve to taste what he had to endure!” I immediately pulled out my pistol and pointed at Daisy. Gatsby Alpha, according to our plan, pointed his own pistol toward me, attempting to rescue Daisy from the