Divine InterventionA Story by BobM A desperate man becomes disillusioned with reality. It felt dirty in his hands. He held it at arm’s length and reluctantly gazed into it’s reflective glare, and the weight of the matter caused his arms to grow heavy. He turned it cautiously, so that he could peer into the gaping cavity where poison seemed to seep, where the last caustic word would be uttered. It was lifeless and cold, and when he gripped it tightly to steel himself for its action, its metal retaliated by stealing away any confidence he had mustered up to that point. He hesitated, sighed, and looked upwards- and after a considerably long period of silence- he finally put the damned thing down. "This is ridiculous" he thought. "I've gone to the trouble of procuring such a cruel commodity, and only now do thoughts that once entertained me so well become so pervasively perverse." He walked around his desk, which now suffered the burden of housing such a contemptible guest, and stood over a rather large window that overlooked the roaring street below. Cars motored up and down the wide asphalt road, honking noisily at people trying, in vain, to cross for the shops across the way. Several ladies in white jackets wandered along the sidewalk opposite his apartment's. Leaning out into the cold air, he regarded them with faint curiosity. One of them, he saw, was a secretary who worked in his office- her name was Jocelyn, he believed. She was a pretty girl, whose thin figure seemed to bow with the wind as she sailed between the display windows. He watched as she produced from her pockets a small band, with which she deftly secured her wispy hair into a single stream of gold. She then disappeared with her friends into a small clothing outlet. Closing the window, he walked back to the desk and sat down heavily. The metallic bane lay there balefully, waiting patiently to fulfill its intended purpose. He lifted it deftly, as if to prove his merit in the endeavor, and flung open the chamber housing. He shook out six copper cylinders onto the desk, replaced one, and spun the entire assembly together. As quickly as he possibly could, he placed it against his right temple and pulled the trigger. Click He exhaled deeply, and slouched into his chair. Somewhere outside a foreman could be heard shouting orders to his crew. A crane’s engine buzzed and whirred. He wondered which would go first, his head or his heart. After a while, he lifted it back to his head and squeezed. Click Exasperated, he dropped the wretched thing and walked back to the window. It seemed Jocelyn had finished her shopping, and was waiting for her friends. She was smoking. Wavering rings of light-grey smoke escaped her lips and expanded out into the air just above her head, while golden rays from the sun danced around her brightly, giving her an almost angelic appearance. He couldn’t help but admire her, the way she silently endured the cold as her friends continued to entertain themselves. He waited until she put out her cigarette, then walked over to his bed where a bottle of gin lay drained and disgruntled. Picking it up, he brought it to his lips and made sure it was empty. He then tossed it into the corner of the room, sat down at his desk, and made about to finish what he had started. But he thought of Jocelyn. She was fair, that much he could not deny, but it had never occurred to him so much as to substantiate any sort of a fancy. After all, they were co-workers, and office romance was generally frowned upon at his firm. Besides, apart from each other’s first name, they knew nothing about each other. He put the thought behind him, and focused instead on putting an end to all of this nonsense. With a flair that imbued just how ridiculous he felt, he raised the object again to his head, and jerked it twice. Click Click He wondered if it was broken. The clerk had insisted it was the best he had to offer, and even took it into the alleyway to prove its functionality. And rightly so, for the amount he was charging to buy the little devil. “No,” he figured, “It must be me.” He raised his arms towards the sky and jeered, “I must be the luckiest man in the world!” And, looking at the small lump of steel in his whitening fist, he proclaimed- “I’ll prove it yet, see-” Click His jaw dropped. He simply could not believe it. Frustrated, he flung the disappointing thing against the wall. It was useless to him now. Now there was no avoiding it- his end had been laid upon a bed of certainty. He must either he accept the peace his failing mechanism would give him, or endure the pain his failed machinations would bring. He came at last to the window. Jocelyn was gone. The streets were throbbing. He searched for her, desperately searching for the angel he had once seen, and suddenly realized that he missed her. He realized, now, that he loved her, had always loved her, and needed her to know. All of those times- in the office, watching her apply her makeup; at the tavern, sitting nervously on the other side of the bar; in this very room, spying upon her graceful actions- all of these times, he now knew, that he was longing for her. He longed, for such a long time, for Jocelyn. And so he found her, moving against the crowd, headed towards a niche where two buildings were interrupted by an alley. She stood there, waiting, and meanwhile he focused on her, his eyes feasting greedily upon her figure. Suddenly, he had a thought, an incredible revelation. He could go to her! He could go now, leave this place, enter the outside and greet her. She would say yes, undoubtedly, and they would be happy together. Of this, he was certain. But before he could move, something perverse caught his eye. A man, much older than either of them, approached her. She smiled, opened her arms, and greeted him warmly. The man released her, pulled her close again, and obscured her face with his own. Struck with grief, he ran to the back of his room, seized hold of his savior, stuck it into his mouth and squeezed- Click Click Click ClickClickClickClickClickClickClickClick- “Wait.” He remembered something. “Her father…” He struggled to recall a conversation he had overheard her having. “Her father,” he decided, “Is in town today.” And with that he leapt to his feet and out the door. He ran to the curb- searched for her figure- found her, and yelled out- “JOCELYN!” She waved. Shouting, he stepped out onto the road. He waved excitedly, eager to meet her. She must have been, too, because she had begun wildly gesticulating. “JOCE-” He never even saw the car gunning towards him as it struck him down.© 2015 BobMAuthor's Note
Featured Review
Reviews
|
Stats |
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
