One choice

One man, One choice. His decision could change so much. Will he do it? Can he do it?

Cement stairs; a pathway to higher heights. Dust Fills the air illuminated by a stream of sunlight that sneak’s through a crack in a broken window. The window sill made of a wood, rotten from the dripping water slowly killing something that was once alive. The banister so very dry that the wood splinters off, Piercing skin. A slow and steady stream of blood, moist runs down the crevasses.

 The taste of fear in the air as the building holds something, a deep set feeling of anxiousness. The spray-painted walls, vandalised are covered in words; tags. People’s names like a timeline of who was once and who is now forgotten. The smell of aerosol still lingers in the air, perhaps just a memory but still a strong odour.

Halfway up the stairs and a window of pure beauty appears; so very plain yet so naturally beautiful. Splintered glass lies beneath it, representing tears of what was once of this window. The top of the stairs goes into pure darkness until the door is slowly opened and a sudden burst of colour and light illuminates the room, Blinding for a second. The sky looks so beautiful from such a height, no pollution or ugly buildings to obscure its pure elegance, a vast space of blue.

I stood completely still. Nothing in the world seemed to matter anymore. It’s like I wasn’t even a being, I was just part of a bigger picture, one that didn’t seem to matter. The wind blowing through my deep black hair felt like a sweet release from the world that I had been living in recently. All my worries drained from within me and it felt beautiful.

 My life is just a constant blur of people, guilt, hurt and despair. You know that feeling. When something bad happens and you realise it’s your fault. A deep ache from the middle of your chest. One that you just can’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard you try. Imagine having that feeling constantly for so many pain-staking years. Yet people look at the pieces of your life that they do see and make a judgement that your life is perfection. However they do not see the events that happen behind closed doors. You are the only one who knows that your life is very much far from perfection. They know you have a few problems but yet they just ask you the same repetitive questions ‘how are you feeling?’ ‘I understand the hurt you must be feeling’ they don’t though, why say it?

 I clicked back into reality and slowly opened my eyes; weighed down by my eyelashes. I looked at the view. Such beautiful buildings towering so high, their windows glistening in the sunlight. People moving about, living their lives. Stressing over little details. So small to me but yet they effect that person in some way.

 My eyes welled up when I realised why I was where I stood. I sat down so that my feet; bare so I could feel free with the wind slowly brushing past my skin they hang over the edge. I suddenly felt the need to remember, the good times, perhaps I subconsciously wanted to stop myself or maybe just say goodbye to all the good times in my life.

 My daughter’s birth, lily. Such a stunning girl. Her auburn curls that rested nicely on her shoulders. Her deep green, piercing eyes that you could quite easily get lost in, that smile that could melt anyone’s heart.  Of course being a teenager she had her certain drawbacks. The shouting and argument’s were a daily routine to us now.

Since her mother had left us I thought it would have brought us closer, like it does in films. They are full of happy endings and beautiful scenery. Two hearts joined and fused for eternity. Dramatic, Something that is just a fantasy, something to strive for.

I can only imagine the hurt that she must be feeling; Lily. When you are left by a person that you loved is something that emotionally cuts you within. But when that person is your mother. A woman that is supposed to love you forever, unconditionally without fail. Someone you can fall back on and trust completely. When the one person you depend on walks out on you, all you can do is blame yourself. After thinking about this it justified my decision just that bit more than before. But also brought on a wave of guilt. How could I leave my daughter like this? This was a thought I quickly dismissed and reasoned with myself that she has many others that would care for her far better than I ever could.

 I am a terrible father. I can’t look after myself, let alone lily as well. My mind is in pieces and I can see lily’s slowly going that way to. Feeling as if she is trapped in a whirlwind spiral of depression. How can a wounded soul look after another successfully? The simple answer is that they cannot. I leaned forward so that I was slowly swaying and a surge of adrenaline pulsated through my veins. I felt as if I was on top of the world. I actually was on top of the world, well as close as you can be in this very small town that I call home. I looked down to what still could very possibly be my fate and a shiver ran down the back of my spine.

I shuffled back and rested against the pillar that sat behind me. That’s when I thought. Has anyone ever also ended their life in this exact spot? Thousands of people could have and no one would know. Loved one’s of course would wonder, Newspapers would run stories ‘suicide at sandy court’ But they wouldn’t know, they wouldn’t understand. Why I’m contemplating suicide is something only I know, people will say I’m selfish. But isn’t it selfish that I should ruin a life and still act as if I am fine and carry on?

Anger begins to bubble up inside me; something in my chest is growing. Bigger and bigger, trying to claw its way out. It hurts me my eyes screw up in pain, causing creases to form beside my eyes. A single tear falls and makes its way down toward my lips, cracked from the incessant biting that had occurred due to nervousness. I wish you could delete memories, just one in particular. If only.

I got up and walked towards the edge, with one foot firmly on the floor I lifted the other. It was now over the edge; it was an awfully long way down. The wind blew and I reacted. I withdrew my leg and placed it firmly on the concrete block of where I stood. It was like I was toying with myself, could I actually do it? Sure I had spent that last 6 months creating a sick plan in my head. But do I actually have the bravery and confidence to end my life?

This is it. I step back about twelve paces, and then I intake a deep breath, my last breath. I begin to run slowly... then faster so that the wind ripples through my hair. My breath starts to become heavier and my heart beats faster pumping an infinite amount of blood throughout my veins. I close my eyes... And I leap off the edge the feeling as if I am free, a bird coursing in the air. Making its way through clouds, the wind is carrying me. Slowly gliding down toward the concrete pavement. Cracked and broken. Wait! No! Lily I can’t leave her. What have I done? A scream fills the air of the street. Passersby turn on their heels and look up, mouths gaping. My arms and legs flail as if that will stop me. My inner monologue repeats the same line ‘I don’t want to die’ but that fateful noise echo’s, Thud. Birds fly through fear. That’s the end for Michael fry.

Lying on the pavement my eyes flicker. They stare up at the beautiful blue sky where starlings are flying in unison. I can’t move. I can’t speak. I just lay there. Trapped within this body. Am I alive? Or am I dead?

Author's Note

Ignore grammar problems, I have never been very good at punctuation etc.

Reviews

[Lauren]

Wow, I really like the way you presented the story. Your descriptions are great! I really enjoyed reading this. I'm not sure how I feel about the ending though. "Am I alive? Or am I dead?" Is a great line in this context. It leaves me wondering if he ultimately decided that he was enough for his daughter or if he was glad to have jumped because he still felt he never would be. I just don't know if I like how inconclusive the ending is. It does invoke how difficult such a decision would be to make, but to me he doesn't seem hopeless enough to jump. Great story overall though!

[Livana Lowell]

You have a keen sense of imagrey that captured me from the very first line all the way to the grieving end. My heart started racing and I actually wanted to know how it will it all end.

Paragraph 1: I love the desciption of setting that just puts you right in the midst of the sitatuon, at the top of that building.
Paragraph 2: Great description of the building and how you molded that down to represent the depressing mood that flows well with this story.
Paragraph 3: Merely describing the sky, the author's last moments of the sky, the admiration adds more to the mood making it flow even better.
Paragraph 4: And then you drew upon the hopelessness, releasing it in a wave of numbness that creates the tension within the story.
Paragraph 5: The sadness of the narrator's life. The feelings of true despair streaking and encouraging his big decsion. I infer that the narrtor will have to make because of the feeling I have about the title. Anyways, the pains of lonliness seep in and the reader goes through such pains along reading this.
Paragraph 6: The eyes of the pained jealousy before the big decison. The realization of the people wrapped up in their own lives, their own misery, and pains.
Paragraph 7: Procrastination sets in and the memories and background is lain out for the reader to understand this decision.
Paragraph 8: The introduction of the daughter. One that will grieve for the loss she is to gain. I like the features, unquely described.
Paragraph 9: And then the comparison of real life and movies. I like how that little cliche was broken that it's we strive for the life that movies portray.
Paragraph 10: And then the narrator tries symphathize and again procrastinate on the idea.
Last Paragraph: I loved the last thought when he realized he's forgotten about his daughter.

I thought this was really good.

P.S. If you need any help on grammar, just ask me.

[faryn wolff]

This is a wonderful story, perfectly executed. There were, of course, problems with grammar, as you said. Perhaps you can find yourself an editor of sorts? Even so, the grammar didn't take away from the story much; the emotion was not hindered by any grammatical errors. Lovely flow of words for a dark subject such as suicide. Great job!