Dead End

A way too real fiction story

Photo by David Kovalenko on Unsplash

Warning: This is not my typical faith and/or humor story. In fact, it is the opposite of what I usually write. I wrote this for a contest that required focusing on the prompt — motion. The entire story had to take place in motion. My piece did not make the finalist list. It’s a story about the permanence of suicide, a topic I take serious. According to the CDC’s National Center for Health Statistics, in 2020, there were 45,799 recorded suicides, up from 42,773 in 2014, according to (NCHS). It’s not a topic I would normally fictionalize and yes, many years ago, I was desperate enough to contemplate this immutable choice. This does reflect some of my own thoughts while in this dark place.

Dead End

A way too real fiction story

With the first step, I remember my favorite color, magenta. I laugh because I’m known for random thoughts. Is it coincidence the end begins with an irrelevant memory, a simple pleasure long taken for granted?

A tear floats upward from my face waiting long enough for me to notice its shape and illumination. I don’t recall ever truly looking at a teardrop. I wonder if everyone’s tears are as beautiful — mom, dad — Stewart, the boy I love? I’m sad, desperate to inspect their teardrops, and say I’m sorry. Faces float through my mind…