Fall of Man

Richard has an existential crisis which leads him down an unusually dark path.

Richard sat alone in a dingy motel room a few miles away from Sydney. Fiending for his next fix, thinking about his past transgressions and attempting to make up for them, in his mind at least, he realised that the only thing that mattered was his present actions and that he needn’t worry about his mortality because he had direct control over his fate. His constant need to numb the pain had messed up his state of mind, making him question his own oneness. This was a dangerous thing to do and it had taken Richard a long time to recognise this cognitive dissonance was quite simply a thing in his head.  The issue, however, was that Richard was an opium addict as well as a gambling addict, not in the sense of wasting his money but in another sense. He kept questioning his own sanity and as soon as he’d come to the truth he would blast it for himself and those around him. 

He was self-destructive but didn’t do this intentionally. On the contrary he wished and dreamed, as most people do, of wealth, inside and outside, of happiness and of peace of mind. Unfortunately, this peace of mind could only be achieved if Richard left the country and changed his identity. But alas, this was Richard, self-destructive, unstable and yet in love with the idea of stability. He sat in the room which stunk of urine and other odd odours. The wall had a dark creamy ting to it and there were many marks, showing that much had happened in this room. The flooring was also substandard but this did not matter to Richard. He was here to smoke some opium and to let his worries wander off.  He opened the kit and laid it down like a surgeon would his, almost in a methodical and ceremonial manner. There was a clear glint in his eyes, he was happy because this time the truth would stick, work was found and combined with the high, nirvana would be his here on planet earth. The high was an incredible one, all pain and loss was forgotten. He was on cloud nine.

 

Two days earlier, Richard, a financial planner with a good reputation, lit up a Dunhill cigarette, deep in thought about his current situation. He had many clients, old and young, rich and poor. This occupation had given him much pleasure in the past years but a few days prior something had happened to him that left him thinking about his future and whether he was really content with his job. Maybe this whole time he had been kidding himself and all the pressures and stresses of life outside of his occupation had pushed him towards his work. He stood outside of the high rise building he worked at, furiously smoking the Dunhill and drinking a bit of whiskey out of his small silver flask. It was the tenth hour of work after all, with three more left. A week prior, at work Richard had suddenly and without reason lost passion for his work. He had been a hard worker and very skilled, being extremely competent with numbers. But suddenly, after fifteen years of service at this particular firm, Richard got a small lightweight pistol out from under a hidden compartment under his office desk and put the gun in his mouth. Eighty percent of him wanted to go ahead with the plan but there was a rigid twenty which saw life as having yet to be fulfilled and that there was more to life than this. So Richard put away the pistol and the bad thoughts until two days after which prompted him to focus on his work and take longer shifts. 

Richard still did not know what it was. A void, a lack of fulfilment and zest for life perhaps or maybe one of those self-help gurus had made him realise that he deeply required more satisfaction. Nevertheless Richard threw away his cigarette once he finished it and walked back into the building. Inside he kept staring at the clock as he filled out paperwork. Once the shift was finished he shuffled along into a taxi cab and got driven home. At his apartment he ate a dull TV dinner and watched The Price is Right. He kept thinking, is this all there is? He remembered his teenage years. Drugs, alcohol and sex with no worries on the horizon and he missed those days and resented father time. He looked at his bank account and looked through his cash as well. He saw that he had enough money for a month. Maybe he ought to quit his job and travel freely to find something better. Or maybe he ought to turn back to opiates, the once crown jewel of his day.

Soon, Richard went to bed. The problem however, was that he could barely get any sleep. Lying there, tossing and turning, wishing that his prior enthusiasm for work would come back, Richard was in fear about how to break the news to his boss. His boss was a stubby, short tempered man with little imagination. He solely focused his energies on the left side of his brain, the logical side and even then made a lot of mistakes which bothered Richard. He was, in Richards mind, a stubborn little man who lacked character. Richard had second doubts about quitting his job but no, he needed a major change in his life. 

At six a.m. with only three hours of sleep, Richard got up and wore his coat, shirt and pants which he had forgotten to press, brushed his teeth and made some coffee and eggs. His small crummy apartment emitted a certain smell, a smell of someone who masturbated and sweated a lot. His lack of family or social life was also another issue which he constantly thought about. He sipped his coffee as he watched Sunrise on the television. The weather was sunny; this could only mean good things. He finished his breakfast and left for work. He decided, it being his last day at his job, he should just catch a cab again like the night before. 

At work he typed at a deliberate pace and was half drunk most of the time. He yelled at clients and would tell them to get stuffed over reasonable complaints and even threatened to kill one of them. Richard had lost any care and was thinking of what to say to his manager, alone in his office when he came in. The cocksure demeanour of Stav Hannity got to Richard and he got up and told Hannity that he was done. He quit. Hannity told him that he was suspended without pay for a month due to his treatment of the clients and that he was still contracted for 5 months. Richard went quiet and couldn’t move his mouth no matter what his mind was telling him. He couldn’t bring himself to talk back. So he regressed back into his shell, swallowed his pride and said okay boss. He begged his manager for a longer shift. Finally he gave in. 

A few hours later, with an hour left until the end of the shift and with everyone having left the building, as Hannity sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and listening to the country station thinking that he could get away with it, Richard walked in. He said quite simply that the work is done. He asked Hannity if he can just relieve him of his contract. He had given the company fifteen years of his life. Hannity slowly shook his head no saying that when Richard is in the zone he is the best at his work. Richard stared at Hannity and said fine. He left the kitchen but came back a few minutes later pistol in hand, he aimed the pistol at Hannity, Hannity looked at him, his jaw dropped and so did his nuts. Richard grinned and blew Hannity’s brains across the fridge door. Richard left the building, surprisingly feeling great. 

Richard sat at home swivelling in his chair, swinging his pistol. He felt edgy yet happy. He let out a happy shriek and got up. He walked towards the mirror and snickered to himself, little Travis Bickle we got here. For the first time in a very long time, Richard felt alive and in control of his life. However the realisation that authorities would be chasing him up slowly but surely sunk in. He made a big mistake. His grin turned into a frown as he pointed his pistol at the mirror, shooting it. He ran and grabbed his suitcase as well as essentials like clothing, reading material and some other trinkets to keep him going. He lit up a cigarette and sat on his leather ottoman couch. Lounging there and in deep thought, the natural high had died out and he was left with worries. Only one thing could remedy this, opium. Oh wonderful opium, the great painkiller and the easy way out of any jam. He grabbed his phone and rang his old dealer, hoping that the number was the same. Luckily he picked up and they set an “appointment”. With his suitcase, Richard left his apartment for the last time. 

He caught a cab and left for the dealer’s house. The dealer, Zachary, lived with a group of junkies a few suburbs away from Richard. Richard got out of the taxi and went to Zachary’s door, knocking in an impatient manner. He needed something. Zachary opened the door and welcomed him in. Richard was rather abrupt and frank in his desire. He wanted opium and a travel kit, no time for niceties. Zachary was happy to oblige, giving him a supply that would last one month, leaving ample time for Richard to find a new dealer on his travels. Zachary also handed him a blue pipe with yellow floral patterns on it. Something that brightened up Richards mood. He got a new travel kit as well and was quickly on his way. Zachary could sense that there was something amiss, but being fog headed most of the time, it didn’t really bother him. Richard was so deep in thought that he had forgotten to tell the cabbie to wait for him. He decided to just catch a bus to a state wide bus station. A change of scenery was needed for him and he knew exactly where to go. He was thinking about coal mining for a few weeks just for the sake of it as his cousin was a manager at a site.

Sitting in the bus, Richard was like a child, ecstatic, as if he had bought a new toy. He could not wait to smoke some opium so that the thoughts of him murdering his boss could subside. Who needed those thoughts anyway? Eventually, fatigued from all the thinking and lack of sleep, Richard fell asleep on the bus. A few hours later he arrived at his destination, a little town outside of Sydney. Richard got out of the bus in front of a motel, Henrys. He walked over the pavement, through the parking lot and saw a bar nearby. He decided against drinking and went to the front office of the motel. Henry, as slim as a stick with an unpleasant grimace on his face sat there reading the Sunday telegraph. Richard asked him if there were any rooms available. Henry said sure thing mate and got a key out and gave it to him. Richard gave some details and left for his room. 

Inside the room, Richard sat down and got his kit out. Bad thoughts were still in his head but those thoughts went away as soon as he started smoking. All was fine in that room, even if a nuclear bomb had dropped nearby there would be no panic from his end. Richard eventually fell asleep, the high being a great success. Eight and a half hours passed by and Richard awoke with snot over his face. He got up from the floor and walked over to the bath, a small one at that. He urinated, staring out of the window facing him. He looked out of the motel, seeing a family walk to their car. They looked happy and genuinely satisfied with life. Richard never had a family and his relationship with his parents was always strained. He flushed the toilet and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were still diluted and he was in very bad condition. 

An hour later he left the motel and walked to a nearby diner. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the scenery, the green pastures and unending fields took his breath away. His senses were heightened and coalesced with thoughts about loneliness and his current situation. This manifested itself in a major emotional breakdown. He sat down, tears welling and all the bad thoughts returning. Rocking back and forth, Richard was a lost soul who had the right intentions but unfortunately his rage and lack of purpose had misled him.  A few minutes passed and he recollected his thoughts, got up and went to the diner. 

Inside he sat down at a corner table and looked around. The diner was empty with only four other customers present. The bus boy handed him with the menu. Richard decided to get boiled eggs, toasted bread, honey and green tea. Suddenly, he heard his name called out. His cousin Bill had just entered the diner, he came over and shook Richards hand. Richard invited him to sit down; he was just thinking about him. Richard asked Bill about his family, who were fine and finally, after some small talk asked him if he had work available. Bill nodded and exclaimed anything for you, cousin. Richard barley knew a thing about mining but Bill assured him that it will be fine and that his job will be relatively easy. Bill received a call, it was from the site. He told Richard where the site was located and said that he will come see him later before leaving. Richard ate his breakfast and left. 

In his motel room he was tempted to smoke some more opium but relented. He paced around, turned on the television then it turned it back off. The image of his boss dying sent shivers down his spine and led him to panicking again. He paced around, looked in the mirror and saw how pale and detached he looked. He went for his suitcase, grabbed his gun and put it in his mouth. He could not bring himself to pull the trigger as that would mean that all his effort was pointless. He started to think of the positives, the fresh start, and this helped him to put the gun down. He sat down on the bed and turned the television on again, this time not turning it off. Two hours passed as Richard sat there almost hypnotised. 

He heard a knock on the door. It was his cousin, he walked over and opened the door and asked his cousin to come in. Bill replied that it’s time to work. They left for the mines, only a few miles away. Arriving by car, they got out and walked to the portable office, fronting the minefield. Bill turned to Richard and asked him if he wanted to work in the office. Richard said he didn’t mind. Inside the office, a minimalistic space with the bare essentials, Richard prepared payslips as well as working on other kinds of paperwork. The first hour or two his work was relatively satisfactory. Still at the back of his mind was the thought of his dead boss, probably discovered by now with the police probably on his back. The quality of his work took a dip because of this and he was also slightly groggy from the opium. Soon it became evident to Bill that Richard was no good at this type of work or that at least he was in no condition that day. Bill relieved him a few hours in; simply saying that is all for today. Richard knew something was off and said that he had a hangover and apologised. Bill replied that it’s fine, and let him go back to his motel. 

Richard retreated to his pipe, smoking to numb the pain. Even this out was of no help. He was useless in this condition.

He sat there letting his mind wander, smoking cigarettes like a chimney and reading various books in short bursts.  He kept himself occupied by jumping from one activity to another which stimulated him. By night time he heard a knock on his door. It was Bill again, Bill asked if he wanted to go to the bar. Richard shyly replied yes. At the bar which was typically full with miners and other wanderers and explorers, Bill ordered black label shots. They had two rounds before Bill asked Richard how come he drank so much. Richard replied because he was in a bad state, being fired and he needs some time to find himself. Bill said that he’s his cousin and he will help in any way he needs. Richard thanked him and said that things are getting a bit better and that he realises his work wasn’t that good but promises not to screw up again. Bill smiled wryly and said don’t worry about it, you’re fine. Two of Bills friends came in and walked up to their table, Bill introduced them to Richard. Ted and Jackie shook hands with Richard and got some lager for themselves. 

After two rounds and after he loosened up a bit, Ted began to complain about his payslip and said that he better not get underpaid. Bill said it was a rookie mistake made by Richard not to be repeated. Richard apologised and said the hangover was too much for him on that day. Ted smiled and said no you’re fine. Jackie asked Richard where he was from; Richard responded the inner west of Sydney. Both Ted and Jackie started mocking Richard in a sarcastic manner with Jackie saying oh the inner west? Well sorry for the disappointment. Bill gave them a look which indicated that this attitude was not on. 

By 11 p.m. after much talking, a drunk Ted started to scold Bill in the bathroom saying that Richard was an opium addict, he also started to talk about nepotism by Bill by giving Richard the easy and decent paying job. Bill replied that’s how it goes and Ted looked like he was about to blow up but calmed himself down and simply said that Richards eyes tell the whole story. They came out, both remaining quiet until Ted started throwing light jabs at Richard about earning your place in life and how drug addiction is terrible. Richard gave a look that gave it away. Drunk he got up and swang at Ted who dodged the shot and bottled Richard. Richard collapsed to the ground, bleeding. Bill got up and told Ted and Jackie to leave. He grabbed Richard, pulled him up and took him back to his motel room. 

Bill apologised profusely and acted sympathetic until he saw the opium kit. He could not keep quiet anymore and laid the truth on him, saying that he’s unreliable and can’t work for him unless he quits the opium. Richard looked at him, and lightly told him to f**k off. Bill scoffed and left the room. Richard went for a cigarette, pacing back and forth and staring out of the window. He saw Ted and Jackie coming towards his room, both looking at his room and calling out his name and apologising. The problem was that it was too late. Richard had been pushed to his limit already as it was. This was the extra nudge he needed to break through. He grabbed his pistol, calmly walked out of his room. He walked up to Ted who extended his hand but received a shot in the head for his troubles. Ted went down, he was gone. Richard turned to Jackie who screamed, Richard calmly said it’s too late and shot him in the gut, he fell just as quickly. With both men dead, Richard grabbed both their valuables including keys to a Volvo belonging to Ted. He went back into his motel room, grabbed all his items, including the opium of course and left. Driving off into the night, Richard had a new found purpose in life, a reason to live. Indeed, great times were ahead.  

Author's Note

This is my first proper short story. I would like some constructive criticism so that i can better my writing. Please be honest.