suicide is painless

Hi, just a short story – 566 words. Hope u like it







                                      SUICIDE IS PAINLESS.

         The city looks beautiful up here. You can almost smell the innocence in the air as the first glimmers of the approaching morning breaks. A whispering breeze gently swirls and buffets my exposed body as I watch the glittering stars as they glide majestically above my head. 

           Below, the city is an intricate flashing pattern of light and colour. It’s hard to believe that down there is a huge infrastructure of human behaviour. Right under my nose people are laughing, shouting, crying, making love, and making war. People are screaming their lungs off as they enter the world, while others gurgle and rattle their way to their maker. Me, I just kind of think its all a big joke now. 

           For the first time in days I feel a calm descend through my aching bones. I've lost everything in the last few months; my job, my family, all the things I’ve taken for granted for so long. All gone in the blind of an eye. They said there was a credit crunch on; I laughed. I made lame, silly excuses when the first mortgage payment when astray. Laughed it off with a large glass of wine when they took the plasma TV, top of the range BMW, my wife’s pride and joy.

         Like everyone else we were sinking fast, I just didn't have the mind-set to join the others as they floated for safety, clinging to the lifeboats of sanity and common sense.  The blood-sucking sharks that swam around fools like us leeched the money from us. Our credit slowly sunk amid an avalanche of debt and despair.

         Down below the first ear-piercing screech of a siren shatters the early morning tranquility as an ambulance hurtles toward its destination. Already I see the streets awash with red and amber strobes of bright lightening.

         With the home gone the arguments started, torrents of abuse exploding as we were forced to live like squashed sardines in a run-down flat on a flea bitten council backwater. Squeaky beds, wafer-thin walls and deadly cockroaches were our new friends now. The wife and kids left me to the damp and mildew as I took to cuddling the bottle far more than them.

         I can see a small crowd from up here. They're milling around like ants as they study the mess on the pavement in disgust. Maybe I should go down and help out. After all it's not everyday that you see what looks like a spattered pizza covering the pavement. Copper colour liquid oozes like a deadly snake before disappearing down the drain with a gurgle.

         With my family gone I was sinking even faster. Drink and loneliness were my family now. Then the job was gone; the boss didn't want a drunk, unshaven loser frightening the clients away. He told me I smelt like shit; said I needed help to escape the spiral of suffering I was inflicting upon my body. Told me no wonder my wife didn't want to sleep with me anymore. I didn't reply that the whiskey never complained when tucked up next to my sweaty book deep in the night.

         I don't feel a thing as they scrape my body from the pavement. It’s a long way down there I have to be careful that I don't fall. Mind you I can vouch that suicide is painless. It's living that causes pain.