I looked at the gun in my hand….
It was black and heavy.
It felt like a gun should…
An object that wielded instant death with a ¼ oz trigger pull.
A way out….
My gun is a dark travel agent with 6 one way tickets….Destination unknown with a long layover in purgatory.
I was at the end of my rope, not the one with 13 knots, although I considered that route also.
I considered a neck tie around the ceiling fan, but I wasn’t doing this for shock value.
I didn’t want to hurt anybody else.
I wasn’t angry at anyone.
I didn’t relish the fact that a child might find me whirling around beneath the fan as if though I were sitting on the edge of an evil merry-go-round.
My eyes wide, my arms outstretched, my legs swinging, a silent scream on my blue tongue and white lips.
I don’t want to make nightmares, just quit living one.
But I was angry enough at myself to kill me.
There were pills on the small table beside me, and a bottle of vodka.
They were pills for what ailed you.
To make me feel better….
I had almost decided to take the whole bottle to make SURE I was healed….and feel nothing.
I didn’t want to be found after 3 days, bloated and green.
I didn’t want to puke all over myself as I tried to fight my body, who was trying to save my life against my will.
I didn’t want to mess up my brother’s bed, so I didn’t go there.
They might try to stop me, tell me they love me…
How can I explain to them that it isn’t them?
I thought about a nice hot bath, with a razor and hair-dryer.
But, I didn’t want to start a fire or mess up my sister’s tub either, so I didn’t go there.
They might try to stop me, tell me they love me, cry and beg, or laugh and tell me that it isn’t funny.
No… It’s not funny.
For once in my life, I am dead serious….
I’m in a nice quiet hotel now, I only paid for one night.
“No luggage” the clerk had asked.
“Only a gun and pills” I thought.
“No…” I said. “I won’t be here long”
“Check out time is at 11 am” the clerk continued.
“At least until you hear the gunshot, I was hoping more like an hour from now” I thought.
“Thanks” I said.
You should be thankful they say, in all things.
Thanks for nothing, life…..
I don’t feel thanks….I don’t feel hope…I don’t feel anything really.
Except for the gun in my hand….the barrel in my mouth.
The hardness of the barrel clicked against my teeth.
My tongue drew back from the bore as if though it were hot.
But it wasn’t….
It was cold, so very…very cold.
I tasted the oil on the gun. I tasted the old cordite.
Gun barrels taste funny…
I stuck my tongue into the barrel, and wondered if it would hurt…
If it would hurt…I thought I didn’t care anymore. I thought I just wanted out!
I could feel the gun trembling from indecision…
…click…. click on my teeth.
No…just my hand shaking.
The gun is all business.
It knows its job….
I could see the hungry brass eyes of the hollow points staring at me.
“Let’s get on with this” they said to me.
I heard a commotion outside of the hotel window.
I laid the gun down on the table, knocking over the pills.
The taste of the gun oil made my lips dry.
I went to the window.
I couldn’t blow my brains out with people right outside my room, the gunshot will scare them.
Maybe give them nightmares….
I couldn’t do that to strangers.
I’m not that big of an asshole.
I looked out the window and saw a man removing luggage from a car.
A woman had a child in her arms, swinging her around like a little top.
They were laughing.
They were breathless.
They were alive and standing less than 10’ from a man that wanted to die.
They all began to do the dumbest, goofiest little dance just outside my window, singing badly “Going to Disney World!”
The man picked up the future Mousketeer and threw her high in the air.
She squealed as she disappeared into the sun.
The mother jumping with fear and delight that her baby could fly so high!
I had to laugh at them!
They were so silly….
I laughed some more….
It makes me sad when I laugh….
The gun oil was no longer on my lips.
The coldness of the barrel was gone.
There was only the taste of salty tears and self loathing.
I flushed the bullets and the pills.
I hid the gun in a trash bag like a dirty book.
I opened the door and looked at the shiny people dancing in the sun.
They didn’t notice me, their happiness made me smile…
I bare my teeth when I smile…
I danced with them in my broken heart.
I too would try to fly once more I hoped.
No use hoping, can’t turn back now…
Even if it be on tattered wings, I will fly.
I tied the rope around my neck and stepped onto the chair…
I saw the small sign beside the door asking me to “Please turn off lights when you leave, Thx… The Manager”
I leaned forward, the rope biting into my neck, making my vision blur, holding my breath so I wouldn’t choke…
“I hope those kids have fun” I whispered into the dark room as I kicked off the chair and stepped into…..
7 thoughts on “Turn Off The Light When You Leave”
Profound insight into the thoughts and feelings of someone fully prepared to step into that unknown abys. Every word is perfectly placed to immerse the reader in the process.
Thx… I love big words!
Stay safe, our friend.
Oh, I forgot to ask how Mr.Tom is doing. Hope all is well!
Thanks for asking, Trez. Tom is doing great. He had emergency heart surgery in early June and that took care of about 80 percent of his problems. He’s in cardio rehab and making great progress.
Glad to hear about the doing well part! My lap top took a poop and I’ve been relegated to posting stories from the occasional truck stop. My prolific talent has been stymied! Lol! Have a great…. Wednesday? 🙂