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Thursday, May 19, 2011

The Last Leap

The cold wind slapped and grabbed at his cheeks as if warning him.
The boy was scared, no denying it, but he felt it was the only way.
Opposing the calls and cries of the frightened onlookers, he leaned forward and let his body play at the mercy of the wind.
Quickly the bridge above him receded as the water below grew closer.
He was crying, his tears leaving a trail that plundged after him.
He flashed though his memories.
The feelings that drove to commit his final act welled up and time slowed down.
He was alone, a fact he blamed on himself.
How his cries for help fallen on deaf and uncaring ears!
All his life he was searching for someone, anyone...
Who was a friend. But no one came.
His mind took him to his parents divorce and all the isolation he felt without his father.
He remembered watching clasmates and kids palying with their mothers and fathers. An act he never enjoyed.
The air filled his ears and seemed to whisper to him, inciting more memories.
A girl filled his mind.
He saw her as clear as if she was there with him.
He felt he loved her. But was scared that she wouldn't return the affection.
The wind told this, "You don't know that because you never tried tried to find out."
He cried harder, the infinite oceans spilling over his cheeks and ears.
He saw his family and what happy times they gave him.
He saw himself opening presents from a time long ago with friends he once had.
Then it hit him.
What a terrible mistake he had made!
The mind of the wind brushed over him and gave him all the answers.
The girl did like him, he just refused to believe it with the cause of 
He felt anger at his actions. All his pain was self-inflicted.
He realized he never even tried. Not once.
Now it was too late.
The air switched around him signaling the end of the fall.
His last thought was that he had a happy life that he expected too much from.
He hoped that he had helped someone during his life at least once. Even a little.
The petrified spectators watched in horror as the boy's last moments became his calmest ever.
The boy's pain had been healed by his last thoughts...
Not his death.

1 comment:

  1. Your writing style seems so indirect... Not that it's a bad thing, but I almost feel like there's something there that I'm suppose to grasp but can't quite seem to do so.

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