Curiousity Killed the Cat

I looked outside the window for hours. I watched the orange sun slowly descend to the horizon. The blinded birds, the lost people, and the sneaky moon, all began to come out of there hiding spots.

 

            Then there was me, sitting in an ordinary wooden chair watching the world. This chair revealed grave mysteries. This chair held the secrets to life and death. I wish to be the chair. When I sit in it, it unfolds the truth. All my questions become answered and I don’t need to wonder anymore.

 

            I often imagine in this chair. As the moon chases the sun and the darkness consumes life, I wonder. Is this all that life holds for an empty chair, a broken glass and me? There has to be more.

 

            Is there the possibility that maybe our goal isn’t life, but death? Maybe our only purpose in life is to please death. If that is the case, then I want to please death. I want to know that I pleased him. I want to die in my own way, let him know that he doesn’t own me, but he is just there so I have some pleasure to fill.

 

            So in this chair I picture my death. What would make death satisfied, if I hung myself, maybe? I would stand on this chair of mystery and tie the knot around my way to fortunate neck. I would look out the window and see myself. I saw the loss and pain in my eyes. I saw the hope slowly subsiding in my chest and I knew this couldn’t be it.

 

            I couldn’t hang myself, but maybe I could jump. Jump into the unknown of my dreams. I could see it. I could see half my feet on the platform. I would look out and see the world, the huge skyscrapers, the busy streets, the baby crying, the mother who doesn’t know that at that moment she was lied to. Life lied. She would never know that, that one decision cost her, her child. I saw everything. I could feel my weight slowly leaning over the edge, but I was missing something. This isn’t how I wanted to please death.

 

            There had to be a right way to do this. I could sense the chair slowly engulfing my mind with its poisons. It felt like… drowning. Could that be what the chair wanted, what death wanted. I had to drown. I pictured it in the best way I could. I put my head in the bowl, the bowl that my wife had cleaned our child in. This bowl that kept so many memories and lies. I let the water in and waited. I waited for that light to take me away. I waited for death to come greet me, but in the water all I saw was blackness. I almost gave up hope when I saw him. It was death, but he could see me. I screamed his name letting more and more water come in. He simply turned around and laughed at me.

 

            That couldn’t be right. That had to be the way I was going to die. I was all out of options. By now the red had left me. I was empty and filled with white. The white shined over my pants and face. As the light filled up my eyes I realized I had brought myself to another circumstance. I looked around in hope, but I couldn’t see anything. I had seen the white, but now it seemed the red started to come back.  I spun around and there was more red. Red filled up my eyes and started to singe my skin. Then I realized this wasn’t the red, it was fire. The fire surrounded me. I could no longer see the chair. I looked for the window, but I didn’t see my reflection. I looked through the window and say my family, my wife standing in the middle of the fire, and my little boy dancing in the flames. It didn’t feel right. All my happy moments burning in front of my eyes and then I saw death. He came up to me with a straight look on my face. I knew this is how I was supposed to die. I got ready to be sucked back into reality of me sitting in the chair. I waited while the flames got hotter. Something was wrong. I usually came back by now. When I stared at death I realized I wasn’t going back. There was no pleasing death. He came when he wanted. No matter how hard I tried to please him he didn’t care. He bent down and wrapped his arms around me. I cried out and let the flames take me. There were no more chairs, no more hope, and no more red. I was alone and my only friend was death.

 

Reviews

[nolan56]

I loved it! The explorations of different suicides was so creepy, and the way that death was personified and then changed was quite intense. Very well written.

[Angelreads]

Thank you, it is a topic i find very interesting to write about.

[Chris]

An interesting piece and a creative way to go about covering the topic of death. A quick story (almost felt like the component to something larger more than a standalone piece) but it gets the point across.

[Angelreads]

Thank you