L'appel du Vide

A man loses his sense of reality.

     “L’appel du vide” is a French psychological term, translating literally to the call of the void. This feeling was swelling inside Chris Jensen, about fifteen minutes to six. He sat on the curb, his lips curled up into a sadistic smile. His lungs itched and his legs screamed from being pushed far beyond their point of exertion. Chris sucked in the cool air, held his breath for a moment, and pushed the air forcefully back out. He grimaced at the fulfillment the pain gave him. Chris pulled himself off of the sidewalk, and sprinted the last stretch back to his house. He ran a cold shower and dressed in fresh clothes. He had a date to attend.

     As he drove to the restaurant in his new, shiny sedan, Chris’s mind burned. He jittered his feet to the beat of the music as he tried to focus on the road, but failed. Watching cars zoom past him, Chris felt overwhelmed. This, surge of power, of total control of the mind, hit him hard. I could pull the steering wheel. Nothing’s stopping me. I could do it right now, cause a wreck, whatever. A red light blinked around the edges of Chris’s vision, and his attention snapped back to the street ahead of him. As he slowed to a stop, his fingers skidded lightly over the leather cover of the steering wheel. His thoughts scared him. Chris drove cautiously the rest of the way to his date, but took each turn sharp and fast, as if to fling the intrusive thoughts out the windshield, to shatter the glass instead of his relative sanity.

     Chris arrived at the restaurant where he was supposed to meet his girlfriend, a huge, five star building with a quaint little rooftop café. He stepped out of his car, the madness and lights of New York City cramming their way into his ears and eyes. He entered the building and met his date.

     “Hello, Chris,” she greeted him, in the over-decorated waiting room at the entrance. Her long, blonde hair flowed over her shoulders and on to the red silk of her dress. Chris nodded at her.

     “Good evening, Alice,” he smiled. “We should go eat on the roof. I’ve heard the view is gorgeous. If, I might add, just like you,” The blonde giggled and took his hand.

     “Let’s go,” she said, and led Chris behind her to the roof.

     The couple found a seat near a fenced in edge of the sky, and a waiter with a thick Provence accent took their order. Chris took a sip of his red wine as the waiter strolled off to attend to another couple. Chris gulped loudly, and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Things were always awkward and quiet with his current girlfriend. She took a sip of her own wine, and pushed a thick curl behind her ear, her blue eyes meeting Chris’s. “So,” she said, popping her lips, “The view is pretty nice up here,” Chris glanced over the edge of the rooftop at the cars and lights below.

     “Yes, as I said, just like you,” he said, without a hint of emotion. Alice giggled once again, looking down at her pale hands folded over one another in her lap.

     “Thanks,” she muttered, grinning. “We are pretty high up, though. It’s kind of scary,” Alice said, looking back up.

     Chris ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “But I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go,” Alice’s eyes stretched. “I mean, look at it this way. The only way to have total control over your own life is to choose when it’s going to end,” His eyes were fixed on the road beyond the flimsy fencing of the rooftop. His mind was swirling at a mile a minute.

     “Chris, you’re kind of scaring me--” Chris couldn’t hear Alice anymore. “I mean, think about it, we really do have control over life and death, meaning if I jumped,” he stood up and walked to the dressed up plastic fencing, placing his hand on the edge of a fake purple grape vine.

     “No, Chris, no! Stop! You’re really scaring me!” “I could die. And if I died, that would be completely up to me. But, maybe, if I can control when I die, I can control when I don’t die, too?” “Waiter! Waiter! Sir! My boyfriend, he--he’s--”

     “It really is just a mind over matter thing. I can control my own death. And even if I do die from it--”

     The waiter who served the couple earlier rushed to Chris, gripping his arm. When Chris backed away from him, the fence creaked. The waiter stepped back and stood by the shaking woman, his own eyes growing in size as Alice spat out sentences that made no sense.

     “Chris, please, I, we--no,” Chris grinned, his eyes reflecting light from above our world.

     “Even if I do die from it, it would be on my own terms,” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, red lights flashing rapidly behind his eyelids. “As they say, it’s mind over matter. I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Using the muscles he gained from overworking his body every single day, Chris hoisted himself over the fence

                                and

                                      fell.

     Alice screamed hysterically, and the waiter from Provence fell to his knees, as the rest of the people at the edge of the night stared.

     I suppose, it turned out to be matter over mind.

                   

Author's Note

Idek