It's Not Such a Wonderful Life
1
Jericho Antares
FAKKU Writer
"It's usually around now that the angel comes down and shows me why I shouldn't do this."
William Karnham remarked dryly to the sky and nothing else. He stood on the far side of a railing, looking down on murky water that lay however many feet beneath. The bridge behind him was empty. No cars, no pedestrians, no cops.
A suicidally depressed man's dream.
There was no straw that broke his back, no huge financial loss that pushed him to this. He just woke up, looked at the calendar, and for the three hundred and sixty fifth time that year wished he hadn't opened his eyes. Life wasn't bad, it just didn't feel like life.
Not the life he wanted anyway.
Maybe that's why there was no angel for him. He was one of the schmoes the world really would be better off without--or at the very least wouldn't miss him.
His hands kept a white knuckle grip on the railing all the same. Add offing one's self to the thirty-two year old list of failures. And something so simple too. Before his dad passed away he told William how easy death is.
It's just letting go.
Part of him knew the notion was bullshit, but that wasn't going to help him take the plunge. He sighed explosively and looked at his watch. 5 minutes to midnight. He wondered if he should've just stayed at the bar. Shot the shit with people he didn't know. Persist in hopes that something sometime would finally swing his way. Karma and the Great Wheel couldn't all be crap, could it? If they weren't they were taking their sweet time, and William thought himself patient. He also thought there were limits to when hope is warranted and when it's a consolation-ridden pat on the back.
Still, he was doing an awful lot of thinking and no doing. He paused one last second to ponder on how profound a commentary on an entire existence that sentence was.
The clock chimed once. Twice. Three times.
The New Year was nearly there. William couldn't stomach the thought. His grip slackened.
"Will?"
He spun on a heel as his weight pitched away from the bridge. His eyes met with those of a spectator--a woman he was trying to catch the eye of at the bar.
"How do you know my--"
Icy black reached up to him and pulled him under into the howling darkness. The words froze in his throat. Everything froze. Blackness.
White. White everywhere. William gazed listlessly at the wristband that bore his name. He slumped in a lawn chair leaning toward nothing in particular. In front of him a nurse bent toward him with a concerned expression.
"Will? Are you feeling alright?"
He looked up to her with drool forming at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm great, Anne," he said, his words slurred, "Great. It's a wonderful life."
William Karnham remarked dryly to the sky and nothing else. He stood on the far side of a railing, looking down on murky water that lay however many feet beneath. The bridge behind him was empty. No cars, no pedestrians, no cops.
A suicidally depressed man's dream.
There was no straw that broke his back, no huge financial loss that pushed him to this. He just woke up, looked at the calendar, and for the three hundred and sixty fifth time that year wished he hadn't opened his eyes. Life wasn't bad, it just didn't feel like life.
Not the life he wanted anyway.
Maybe that's why there was no angel for him. He was one of the schmoes the world really would be better off without--or at the very least wouldn't miss him.
His hands kept a white knuckle grip on the railing all the same. Add offing one's self to the thirty-two year old list of failures. And something so simple too. Before his dad passed away he told William how easy death is.
It's just letting go.
Part of him knew the notion was bullshit, but that wasn't going to help him take the plunge. He sighed explosively and looked at his watch. 5 minutes to midnight. He wondered if he should've just stayed at the bar. Shot the shit with people he didn't know. Persist in hopes that something sometime would finally swing his way. Karma and the Great Wheel couldn't all be crap, could it? If they weren't they were taking their sweet time, and William thought himself patient. He also thought there were limits to when hope is warranted and when it's a consolation-ridden pat on the back.
Still, he was doing an awful lot of thinking and no doing. He paused one last second to ponder on how profound a commentary on an entire existence that sentence was.
The clock chimed once. Twice. Three times.
The New Year was nearly there. William couldn't stomach the thought. His grip slackened.
"Will?"
He spun on a heel as his weight pitched away from the bridge. His eyes met with those of a spectator--a woman he was trying to catch the eye of at the bar.
"How do you know my--"
Icy black reached up to him and pulled him under into the howling darkness. The words froze in his throat. Everything froze. Blackness.
White. White everywhere. William gazed listlessly at the wristband that bore his name. He slumped in a lawn chair leaning toward nothing in particular. In front of him a nurse bent toward him with a concerned expression.
"Will? Are you feeling alright?"
He looked up to her with drool forming at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm great, Anne," he said, his words slurred, "Great. It's a wonderful life."
0
mibuchiha
Fakku Elder
"He also thought there were limits to when hope is warranted and when it's a consolation-ridden pat on the back."
Oh the memories. I can't say I get the ending fully, but it was a good read.
Btw it's been a while since you last put forth anything.
Oh the memories. I can't say I get the ending fully, but it was a good read.
Btw it's been a while since you last put forth anything.
0
Jericho Antares
FAKKU Writer
I was going for an insight into the mind of a constantly-medicated psych ward patient. His mind pursues death, but he's so endlessly sedated that he can't really do anything but sit. Guess it wasn't very successful in that regard, but I guess as long as it's a good read and considering the other stuff I've written since last November that's a general win. Thanks for the thoughts, Mibu.
0
leonard267
FAKKU Non-Writer
^ No wonder you posted in the collaboration thread! The plot of that thread appears to be very similar to your exploration of a disturbed mind.
1
Jericho Antares
FAKKU Writer
Haha that and I want to try and work with the writing styles/plots of others to get back in my groove. Jerry's gotta get his groove back.