Tom's last moment

A short story set in new york where a man contemplate his life in his office one lonely night.

 

 

Tom’s last moment

  

The only light in Tom Webster’s office was from a small green lamp on his desk. Tom sat in his black leather chair and looked at his desk, behind him the tops of other office blocks in New York where covered in heavy snow, the moonlight mad them sparking in the dead of the night.

  Tom looked down at his wooden desk and studied the objects from right to left. First there was the lamp that highlighted the rest of the objects, seconded was an empty glass tumbler and a crystal decanter half full with the finest brandy money could buy. Next to them lay a 44 silver plated revolver, next to that stood a single bullet.

  Tom Webster popped of the top of the decanter and poured the tumbler to the top with the brandy. He picked up the drink and looked into the bronze liquid and thought about his life.

  He had never wanted to have an office life but these things turned out that way when he married his wife Jane. Then she had his son and bang! His life was finished; he was forced in to taking this job from Jane’s dad who had connections in the office world. Tom hated every day of his life since he had been working in this office where he seat at this drastic moment in time. He didn’t even love his wife any more and his son who was now six years old was getting on his never him more then he ever thought possible. He didn’t get along with his son to be quite frank he hated him and his mum.

  Tom wanted to travel the world when he left collage but he didn’t get any further then Boston. He all ways thought his life was pointless and now with this class of brandy in his hands he was thinking he was quit right about that. Life was slipping from his body and he sure wasn’t going to end up like his mum and dad or Jane’s.

  He hated looking into the future and pitching himself and Jane walking along Coney Island sea front with walking sticks and frightened of every shadow. That wasn’t going to happen in his life, no way!

  He swallowed the sprite and felt the liquid slide down his body and into his belly and felt it burn. His eyes filled up with water as he placed the glass down on the wooden desk.

  Tom Webster picked up the gun and swung the bullet chamber out, he then picked up the single bullet and placed it in to the top bullet chamber. The bullet looked cozy in its chamber; it looked like he was fast asleep in bed. Tom flicked the chamber back into the gun and pulled the hammer back slowly, the bullet was now fully awake and ready to be fired as it slid into the firing position. He held the 44 in his hands and it

 

 

 

 

Felt like he was holding a sledge hammer, it was so heavy in his weak and trembling hands.

   He got up from his leather chair and walked to the window of his office and looked down and the snowy streets of the big apple. Tom’s office was so high up that all he could see were tiny yellow dots driving around the roads. He looked up into the black sky and watched the snow glide down to the streets like a dusting of icing surer.

  He put the gun to his head and then placed his finger on the trigger. Then the gold plated phone on his desk began to ring, Tom looked at it and very slowly took the gun away from his temple and walked over to his desk and picked up the phone, he answered it.

 ‘Hello.’

 ‘Where the hell are you? Dinners been on the table for well over an hour.’

 ‘Jane! My loving wife I hear that you’re in a good mode,’ Tom said.

 ‘Don’t be sarcastic with me or a devoice will be fired at you as quick a bullet,’ Jane shouted. Tom looked at his trembling hand that held the gun.

 ‘I’m at the office, and I might stay her a bit longer.’

 ‘Just f*****g get home, alright?’

 ‘Yeah! Just one thing, Jane I’ve never really loved you or are son. Goodbye.’

  Tom Webster dropped the phone and backed away from his desk until his back was sandwiched against the window. In his last moment on earth he looked at the walls of his office that were highlighted by the moonlight. On the walls little black dots slowly fell, it was the snow flakes silhouette on the wall. That was the last thing Tom saw. He put the barrel of the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  The bullet left the hot barrel of the gun and passed though Tom brain and blew a huge hole in the back of his head, the bullet then left the office as it smashed out of the window. Tom’s corpse fell on to the floor, above him the bloody hole in the widow was now starting to collect snow.

  Out side the office window a red line of Tom Webster’s blood traveled from the hole in the window, along the snow covered ledge of the building and very slowly reached the edge. One red droplet of blood fell from the edge of the building.

   The red drop fell towards the road below with many thousands of white snow flakes, the blood drop stood out in the field of white as it plummeted to the pavement. When the blood hit the pavement it made no sound, then a few moments latter it was covered with by the rest of the snow. It was vanished from the face of the earth, it was like had never been there just like Tom Webster.

 

 

The end

 

By Luke Ritta

Reviews

[Mizo4]

Thank you for entering my short story compettion. Quiet a shocking peice, powerful the way he states to his wife how he feels before ending his life. It's upsetting but it's an upsetting subject and thats the job of a good writer to convey powerful emotions to the reader. Very good- i really liked this.

[Stef Outsiders]

Oh my.. this made me tearful... but an extremely good piece... I felt for Tom Webster... =' /