849

A Story by Dylan Mabe

One.

My stride starting up the eight hundred and forty-eight steps leading to the top of the Space Needle in Seattle faltered only slightly. I could feel the vibration of the elevator against my bare feet. I could have rode, but I needed to savor every moment of my mad scheme.

Fifty-seven

The number was on repeat in my head. It rang through my skull with every step that my frail, but strong willed body longingly took. There was no rush. I took my time, letting my still child-like hands stroke the walls as I paraded up the stairs that called to me.

One hundred and seventy-six

The words I composed for Mother on that piece of paper were leaving me. I could no longer remember the passion that was put into it. The way I lost my composure time and time again as my palms lost grip of the pen. How I sat the note by Mother's bedside with such care, so that I didn't wake her. She would be devastated. She would cry. Who wouldn't after losing the two people who made the house she slept in a home. Even after her husband left her she saw him every day, in her daughter's eyes. The one thing a father gave his daughter, haunted her mother to no end.

Three hundred and thirty-two.

What was Mother's name, I wondered? It no longer took hold of my mind, Bending it with grief and memories. I could only remember the hair, brown but, starting to grey. Just as the color of Mother's hair was fading, so was my last memory of her.

Four hundred and ninety-eight.

I didn't even worry about cameras or security. They would think I was just a late night visitor wanting to gawk at the lights of the city at night. When my destination was reached, I would be long gone. I flattered myself with how clever I was. A smile was permitted across my face. Cracked lips carved through the wrinkles that revenged my still adolescent face.

Six hundred and twenty-one.

Closer. I was getting anxious now. If only my legs weren't so frail and so tired. I thought it a blessing at first get to see every step of my plan go by slowly and flawlessly. Now however, I just wanted it to be over.

Eight hundred and two.

I could now feel the breeze from the opening that lead outside. The harsh cold wind on my already chapped lips seared with pain as they spilt, bringing blood, which gave me the only color left to my pale face. My hand caught the steam as it cascaded down my chin to the base of my neck. I looked at the blood as it colored my achromatic hand, just as it did my face. I had no need for such Earthy things as blood anymore. I stained the door frame as I passed through it too the top of The Space Needle.

Eight hundred and forty-seven

I was where I wasn't supposed to be. I was the pinnacle of the city of Seattle. The beauty of the city called to me from below. No one else existed in this moment but me and the bright lights of the metropolis. They wanted me. I stepped forward to meet the offer.

Eight hundred and forty-eight

It was my destiny. To be a part of the beauty. Nothing of my current life was even in my memory any longer. My body took control of itself, taking that last step forward. My eye's rolled back into my head and then closed.

I gasped as my mind was flooded. Belaya was Mother's name. A comforting last thought.

Eight hundred and forty-nine.