Horror
Out of the blue, into the black and back again
Gun to my head, I'm dared to breathe. It may be the last breath or the first of many. It's hard to tell, the only thing that's sure as I stand on the dusty floor of his family's barn is how close I am to becoming part of the soil that comes through the cracks in the concrete. I love him, loved him? He stands next to be, blood dripping from his stomach. I say dripping but the fountain of red is best described as spurting. A chaotic reminder of the conscience that will soon dissipate into a void space none of us can describe or come back from. As Neil Young once sung, he'll soon be out of the blue and into the black. I don't have time to wax poetic right now, I am about to die or commit the biggest betrayal I could ever fathom. One so brutal I'd have to run away from everyone I know, hidden away someplace, unable to speak of it, too ashamed to admit what I've done. I'll probably be so wracked with shame I'll kill myself anyways. I almost let him pull the trigger. His grip is loosening as his pulse dissipates. His mind is playing tricks on him and his speech is incoherent. I am watching the person I love most in the world die and I am too afraid to join him. We made a deal. The last one we'd ever make. We'd go out together. Consensual Murder Suicide. We'd reach a point where we'd both succumb to our worst depressive episodes and we'd have no energy or will to continue. No more music or aspirations, none of it would matter and we'd burn out together. A burst of violent light, a couple sharp sounds and it would all be done. No more loneliness or lost days spent wishing for night to come again. Eternal night. We picked a spot, set a date. He stole his father's gun and we drove to their childhood barn. We brought his old record player and our favourite records to go along with it. Some candles, our favourite food, a pack of cigarettes and a couple of grams of whatever we could find. A proper send off. We've arrived now and I really thought I'd be ready to go. Why am I so afraid? Everything's all set, it feels impossible to get out of it now. I really thought it would feel like closure, it would feel like the right time. We checked the time an hour ago. We had been sleeping on this dusty floor for the past 3 days. Our last vacation. I felt good, I felt safe. Maybe even happy. Happier than I've felt in the past 6 months, at the very least. I thought we should call it off, maybe we just need to spend more time together. Get away more often, concentrate on what makes us feel like staying. I remember their faces. Everyone I love, everyone I want to avoid hurting and everyone I know I'll be leaving behind. It's too much, for a second I cock the gun and almost pull the trigger on myself while he's sleeping. I can't keep thinking about it, I'll talk myself out of it and then I'll just be cycling through the motions until I end up here again, alone. This is the right decision, this is the end. He woke up, decided he was ready to go, said didn't want to discuss it anymore and shot himself in the stomach. He looked at me with anticipation, wondering when I'd do the same. I didn't. I just stood there staring at the finality of what he'd done. I felt numb and devastated all at the same time. Paralyzed with fear, I just stood still. He picked up the gun, offered to do it for me, on my say-so. He put the gun to my temple, turned off the safety and waited for me. I stood motionless, aimlessly waiting for a moment I felt ready. It never came, his grip got looser and I started to panic, knowing I wouldn't be able to do it alone. Now I'm standing here, next to him as he begins to nod off into oblivion. I don't think I can bear this loss, I've got to go, I told him I would and I don't want to leave him alone. But I can't do it. I'm frozen, knowing what I'm doing is irreversible. I stare down at my feet as they sway back and forth in panic, across the barn's dusty floor. I can't look up, I start counting the twigs, imagining where they all came from, how they got in here, if I had drug them in with me and if they'd be the last thing I see. I'm not panicking anymore, I feel paralyzed by my own resistance, waiting for a sign to come and pull the trigger on his behalf, utter my consent through it's mouth. It never comes, the minutes turn into hours, turn into days. I'm still standing there, frozen, staring at the ground as the earth begins to rot where I've been standing. My shock has immobilized me and made me immune to any natural desire to eat, sleep, drink or go to the bathroom. I haven't looked for him, I know I won't be able to bear what I see. So I just stand there, my feet become entrenched in what certain to one day be a crime scene. I count the mice and flies and small rodents as they pass by me through the day, some stop to smell at me, certain I must be dead or close to it. I just observe. I'm like a nun who's taken a vow of silence, I never thought I'd be this quiet. Then, as the leaves that were stuck to my head start to wither, I walk out into the light that awaits me in the dark. I look behind or below me and see the barn waiting for me to return, someday in the future. I didn't leave behind what I had promised of myself and I can hear it beckon to me. I will never truly be free. And then I open my eyes.
By Harley Rowe5 years ago in Fiction
The Gifts
Josie rushed over to Jennifer’s house, banging on the door, Jennifer opened the door wondering what was wrong. “ Are you ok?! You sounded scared on the phone and you look awful”, she said. “Thanks a lot!” Josie said while taking a deep breath, “didn’t you hear?!” “Huh, hear about what?” Jen replied, now getting nervous. They found him! Jen gasped, what, how do you know? Josie snatched the remote and turned the television on. “I knew it, I knew this would happen!”
By Rosaline Gunn5 years ago in Fiction
The Celebration
August 16th. It is my birthday. It was my birthday. That was my last day of freedom. That was the last day I was out of this wretched room. 365 days have passed since then, and it’s been my personal hell. At this point in life, I have passed desperation, passed disbelief, and am approaching acceptance of my plight.
By Mitchell Jenkins5 years ago in Fiction
Marigolds Don't Just Mean Happiness
When we first met, you told me you liked to give flowers based on their meanings. You gave me a carnation the next time we saw each other and told me it meant fascination. After our first date, you gave me a gardenia. I realized then that falling in love with you required falling in love with flowers and I did so with ease. By the time I invited you to move in, my apartment looked like a floral shop and I gave you marigolds to tell you how every moment together made me feel.
By Ace_Strider5 years ago in Fiction
Stuck in Pine Hills
Stuck In Pine Hills Nothing can quite compare to the sensation of being strapped to a spinning car with zero control of your steering, brakes, or bladder. I threw my hands in the air and prayed, Carrie Underwood style, and braced myself for the end.
By Ruth Teets5 years ago in Fiction
Sanctuary
Our car slowly drives down the curvy road through the forest. The trees menacingly tilt inwards towards one another trying to block out the sun. We continue driving down the road, I can see that mom and Sam are talking to one another. I can’t make out anything as my music is blasting in my ears, trying to make the outside world go away.
By Aiden Klimov5 years ago in Fiction
The scar
He ran his fingers through his grey beard as he released a long-drawn sigh and opened his eyes to reveal the milky white pigment they held. The little girl speaking with him let out a slight gasp of shock that quickly turned to an obvious fascination with her subsequent exhale. The man let out a chuckle before he removed his hand from his beard, raised the sunglasses in question, and answered “That, that is why I am wearing these sunglasses indoors little lady.” He paused to give her a moment to absorb the information before he continued, “You see, I am blind. My vision failed me quite some years ago...a little too late if you ask me but that is up for debate.” His voice was gravely, deep, and felt as though it was housing some great pain, which of course it was. “Now, do you have any other questions you’d like to ask me? And before you do, know there is no great story on how I became blind. It just happened over time until one day, I couldn’t see anymore.” He replaced the glasses onto his face before reaching into the breast pocket of his tattered flannel shirt and removing a pack of cigarettes as well as a book of matches.
By Drake Myers5 years ago in Fiction
