ThreeA Story by R.C. KingfisherThree ghosts narrate as a man takes his own life.One
hour and 12 minutes left. Not the right time to die. Patience is the key to
anything in life. Even if it involves ending it. That’s what he’s thinking as
his foot sits firmly on the gas pedal. His car keeps trudging forward. He made
sure his fuel was empty. He can’t afford to have a way out of this………temptation
is strong. Too strong. The road is as promising as a corpse, he thinks. The
road is where it all starts…and where it all ends. What a beautiful symmetry. He
sees the sky. It’s as black and cold as it is infinite. He made sure that this
is the spot. This is one of the only places where there are no stars. He can’t
afford to see something so beautiful. Might give him a reason to turn back…He’s
got the lighter in his pocket and the oil to his right. He guards them as if
they were his children…
Look at
this idiot. Sitting there in his car
like some dead-beat sob story induced dog…You want a bone little doggy? So
weak. Pathetic. Useless. Hopeless. No wonder this world’s going to hell…Look at
this piece of filth and tell me that he doesn’t deserve what he’s getting…One
thing you gotta admire about him though. He’s done crying.
10:59
PM. He’s getting closer. His eyes are dry. He’s not even shaking. He’s done
with that. .He’s driving to the summit. Not many tourists this late at
night….Even if they see him….no one’s going to bother…..Of course, they might
spread the tale but it’ll be a myth to the ones that hear it…in the eyes of few
but in the hearts of many. How wonderful, he thinks. He worries that he might
have been too generous with the fuel. It should be near empty by now. He’s had
a good life…good enough. Just not happy enough…or long enough…
The dog
has finally reached the top. It’s taken
him long enough. The thing with dying is that you have to keep moving
forward…any hesitation or lingering and you turn into some sentimental maniac. The
lights have shut off…he’s out of fuel. Good. This took some planning. Must have
spent months preparing the details. The good part is coming.
11:29
PM. He could have chosen a gun. Or just jumped. But he doesn’t want to do
that….it’s too mundane. Happens every day. He wants to go out like a star"a
brilliant supernova of light. He gets out of the car. Not too slow. Not too
fast. He walks to the edge of the summit. The night is silent. Serene. Calm.
Just like how he’s feeling. The moon shines brilliantly, as if silently
agreeing with his choice. No clouds tonight. No wind. This is a good night. A
perfect night. The owls from the forest watch like a perfect audience.
Come child…Take my hand…come to the light. It’s so warm
here. The fire burns bright here. I’ll take care of you…you don’t need to worry
about anything…Just one my child. One leap of faith is all you need to be with
me. Once you cross over"there’s no such thing as pain where I live, my child.
No cruel world. Just Eternal bliss. Take my hand…
Love this part. LOVE it. Something so
exciting and suspenseful about it…..This must be what it’s like to be an
innocent little child on Christmas morning….to go downstairs and see what Santa
has gotten you. Of course, that’s just the part that the parents make up to
make their children BELIEVE. This guy definitely believes……..he just doesn’t
care……..a broken doll…….
11:59 PM. This is it. The moment of
reckoning. The moment that he’s been waiting for.
He’s so brave. Look at him. He takes the oil, screws off
the top. He tips the canister over his head. Just like soldiers before a
battle, he remains calm and composed. I don’t know how he does it…he makes it
look so easy…He’s on the edge, standing precariously. What a man. Here he is,
done with the life he lives and going on to the next one. This is strength.
This is honor. This is conviction. This is death. Come my child!
11:59 PM. About 26 seconds to midnight. His
heartbeat is steady. Not even jumping around the slightest bit. He raises his
hand. Eyes closed. He breathes. Slowly. The gentle hum of suspense sneaks in.
THE MAIN EVENT. The only thing I really
came for…..It is spectacular….It is beautiful. It sends shivers"shivers of
excitement"down my spine just to talk about it. How majestic. There’s nothing that I’d rather
see…..
My hero. How it must feel. He raises his hand. The lighter
sparks to life. The fire dances and rises. It revitalizes. Nourishes. Warms.
How beautifully the fire looks under the night sky….how beautiful he will look
when he falls! He raises the lighter over his head…
12:00 PM. He lets go.
He lets go.
He lets go. The fire is beautiful. A wide range of colors
overflows his head and spreads instantaneously. Red, orange, yellow"beautiful
against the night backdrop. He doesn’t scream. Not even yelp. And then"He
falls.
12:00 PM. He falls.
He falls. Looks like a bird"but not just
any ordinary bird, but a"
Phoenix. He is a fiery angel. He gives hope. He’s a hero.
He’s my hero. But his calculations weren’t precise enough. Someone SAW…
12:00 PM. There’s nothing he could have
done about this. This is one of those things in life that you can’t change
because one is not meant to. Someone saw.
It was nobody important. Just some kid on a nearby farm. He’s not sure
what to make of it at first. He’s young. The man has seconds until the end of
his life, but the boy has years. The fire’s reflection dances in his eyes. It
will dance forever in his heart.
It will dance forever in his heart.
It will dance forever in his heart.
© 2015 R.C. KingfisherAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorR.C. KingfisherNYAboutJust a sixteen-year-old dude. I'm not sure why I write, but it definitely is therapeutic to me. I have trouble with loneliness and/or a minor case of depression but writing things down really helps.. more..Writing
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