I hear the tink, tink, tink of the shell casing setlling on the floor soon followed by the splat of the limp body’s face smacking the hard tile. I open my eyes and can see blood and brain matter sprayed on the wall, and I realize I’m alone and something has gone horribly wrong.
As he lit the flame, he hoped his smell would linger over her house like an obstinate cloud and infuse itself into every inch of her surroundings.
It was, after all, the only thing she had ever liked about him.
“Wait – don’t jump!” Carly Ann yelled at her big brother who was ready and poised to plummet to (what he thought would be) his death from the window of his second-story bedroom. “Just give me a minute to get up there and I’ll push you off myself!”
“Today was the best day of my entire life!” Glen exclaimed with the grin of a madman before stabbing the dagger straight into his heart.
We shouldn’t have been surprised; he had always preached a sell-high mentality.
The day before he had planned to kill himself, Ben completed the ten thousand piece puzzle he had been working on for quite some time, only to find that one tiny, seemingly insignificant piece was missing.
Still, it didn’t look right.
Hey, give me a call before you top yourself yeah?
You owe me four bucks.
By the time you read this, I’ll be bread.
The baker’s suicide note.
Did the cat know it would die that day it slipped over the neighbour’s fence?
Did it commit suicide because it couldn’t stand living with us anymore?
Do you think those who jump from high places to their death experience something close to transcendence?
Do those brief seconds stretch on forever?
Tomorrow at work they’ll ask me what I did on the weekend and I’ll lie and say “you know, just had a bit of fun” or something like that.
The truth is that on the weekend I mocked a few religions, declared a meal “the worst I’ve eaten” though it wasn’t, slept alone, and relaxed my hands on the wheel in yet another reckless game so the car strayed just a little onto the gravel.
The chicken didn’t ponder long before venturing out into the heavy 5 o’clock traffic on the busiest road in this country town. All she had wanted was to get to the other side to feast on the sack of corn that had flown off of the feed truck, but she had not really considered, as is the way with chickens, that she might get squashed flat by a refrigerated truck on its way to the local Publix to deliver – what else – chickens.
He studied her face, thinking how beautiful she was, and thought of all the nights he had left her alone, frantic with worry, while he caroused with his friends. After several minutes, he dialed the number, and with tears rolling down his cheeks, said, “I’d like to report a suicide.”
Hitting the window of the time machine, raindrops blurred Charlie’s view of the condemning faces watching him depart, and he felt the flow of the controlling medicing. He knew he would soon stare into his younger, fearful eyes, feel his own cold grasp around his throat, and, paying the price for his crimes, his breath would mingle with old air, fading at last into the darkness of the night’s past.
A man jumped from the roof today, landing in a spray of cogs and springs and spurting oil.
His engine beat twice more then seized forever.
When those who were invited began to show up, there sure was a lot of hugging going on. Old doc Cooper hugged her, and tightly too; and Missy Danby, a nurse from two doors down, arrived and hugged her; and Jason Miner the fire chief hugged her so hard that finally they could lift her high enough to loosen the rope from the around her neck.
I caught his eye just before he jumped in front of the bus; he smiled knowingly and threw me his breifcase. Inside were divorce papers and a woman’s severed hand wearing a beautiful wedding ring.
Paul grabbed his daughter’s hand just as she was about to fall over the railing. Her deep green sorrowful eyes met his for a moment and then she shook off his grip to let herself go over the edge.
She had had enough, the mental pain was beyond repair and the darkness suffocated her to the point where only one option remained: the razor carved through her wrists back and forth countless times in frantic pace until blade chipped into bone. The absence of blood was shocking but the more debilitating fact was the predicament sparked the only memory remaining: she was already dead and her own personal hell was far worse then her living one and though the blood had dried up the tears did not.
“How are your ex-girlfriends doing?” ask my friends innocently. “They all committed suicide shortly after they left me.” I answer.
I sat there crying in the corner. She called a friend to comfort me, but the feel of cold metal piercing through my heart seemed more comforting.