"Well, we're coming up on the spot. I assume this is looking familiar."
"Yes."
"It should. Do you recognize it?"
"Yes."
"Why did you pick it? Why did you choose here?"
"I didn't pick it."
"But you stopped. You were driving your car. You could have kept going. You didn't. You chose here."
"I didn't come looking for this spot, if that's what you mean. I was driving, and I saw it. I stopped. That's it."
"Saw what?"
"Those three trees up on the hill."
"Right there?"
"Yes. The morning sun was just breaking over the dead grass. It was cloudy. Dark grey. The sun wasn't very strong."
"Like now."
"Yes. Like now."
"Come on. Let's walk."
"I'm tired."
"Frankly, I don't give a crap if you're tired."
"I'm so tired."
"If you want me to help you, you'll walk."
"You just want me to confess."
"We already have all the evidence we need. Confess if you want. Or don't. I don't give a shit."
"Then why bring me here?"
"Like I said, we're doing this for you."
"I don't believe you."
"Walk!"
* * *
"We're here."
"I know."
"You know why I stopped here, don't you?"
"Yes."
"So why did you pick this tree?"
"It's the middle tree."
"The middle tree?"
"I like symmetry. If you're going to end a life, if you're going to kill, you have to respect that. It's something big. Momentous. You can't be careless or sloppy. You have to think. You have to do it right."
"You talk about it so calmly, so calculating. Almost mathematical. Your symmetry, for example."
"Well, that's who I am."
"Sick is what you are."
"That's your opinion."
"It certainly is, pig."
"I might tend to cooperate more if you didn't insult me."
"I don't give a shit what you may 'tend' to do. If you want me to help you, fucker, you'll cooperate even if I back up a truck and dump a load of crap on you."
"I didn't know you official types swore."
"You don't know the first thing about us official types."
"If you say so."
"So this is where you did it, right?"
"Yes."
"Describe it to me."
"I don't want to."
"Describe it to me."
"I had a gun."
"Did you cry?"
"What?"
"Did you cry?"
"Why would I cry?"
"You were taking an innocent life. Your finger on the trigger. Didn't you have any feelings about it?"
"If I had feelings, they were far, far away."
"There was blood."
"I didn't look."
"There were brains."
"I didn't look."
"Of course you looked! Don't fucking lie to me!"
"I--"
"DON'T!"
"I, I did look down. Eventually. Afterwards."
"What did you see?"
"Blood."
"And brains?"
"Yes."
"Did you feel any remorse then?"
"No."
"None?"
"I laughed."
"What kind of sick fuck are you?"
"I laughed."
"You're crying now."
"I know."
"Why are you're crying?"
"I cry at beautiful things."
"Kind of odd, don't you think?"
"Am I going to hell?"
"There's no such place."
"Am I in hell? That's why you're here, isn't it?"
"This isn't hell."
"Are you here to judge me?"
"I don't pass judgment."
"Then who does?"
"No one."
"Then why are you here?"
"You shot yourself. You put a gun against your head and pulled the trigger."
"Yes."
"You left your body to decay on this hill."
"Yes."
"Do you see your bones lying there?"
"I don't know."
"Come on. We have a lot more to see."
18 comments:
This is so da ja vue!
Almost one year ago a friend of mine put a gun and her mouth and pulled the trigger ... this is after five other attempts, and the one before the last was in a graveyard under a tree.
This is so damn real to me --- yet it brings me peace to know that just maybe, for leaving this legacy for her two young children on Christmas Eve, justice will prevail, if there is such a thing for those who commit suicide, uncaring of the ones that love them.
Thank you Jason.
Suicide is such a totally self absorbed thing. Your approach both highlights that and turns the opposite page for us to see.
Extraordinary Jason...as you are
Linda
oh gosh, i didn't see that coming... it's frightening.
the ending took me too, by surprise.
a sort of a ghost story...
I bet those who commit suicide undergo some sort of similar self-debate. It must be tough and you described it well.
This took me by surprise, too, and makes me think. Very nice build up.
Brilliant! Didn't suss it at all!! Nice one old bean!
Oooh Jason, that could be the beginning of a fantastic novel. I just love your writing? Have I said that before? :)
I suspected this was coming - knowing you, Jason.
Good one!
Ulp. Three trees with the middle tree being the actual site was a nice touch. Being me, I got a little crucifiction image there.
I also really liked the intensity of the anger. There was a suicide in my husband's family a few years ago and more than grief, even, there was a lot of anger before they came to grips with it.
Gripping. Well written. Unlike Bernita, I was not so prescient as to predict the ending. You caught me totally in the twist. Very well done.
Wow! An interesting dialogue that one might have with oneself. It's almost like I saw one mind with two mouths, here. Even though these two were on opposite ends of the spectrum, the were so opposite as to almost touch. Funny, the things that break us down...
Amias, since this issue is so close, I'm glad you found some merit in this piece. I wanted to show the aftermath without taking a clear side. Except that the unfinished business is still there. He didn't get away clean.
Linda, thank you for the high compliment! I do see it as turning the page. More remains to be done.
Shadow, I was hoping to catch a good number of readers by surprise.
Szelsofa, yes, it is a ghost story of sorts. A strange, shadow world.
Karen, I was hoping I led readers far enough astray. ;)
Four Dinners, thanks my friend!
Tabitha, you can certainly say it again. I don't mind at all. :D
Bernita, of all the bloggers I know, I've known you the longest. ;)
Laurel, yes, the questioner is simmering with anger beneath the surface. In a way, the suicide victim wants the anger, I think.
PJD, I was hoping to twist some people! Seriously, thanks for letting me know. I really love seeing what can be communicated in dialogue alone.
Nevine, that's an astute observation. In this odd netherworld, identities really aren't clear. They very well might be pieces of the same psyche.
This could be my husband. Except he did it in the living room.
I was devastated when my young and talented friend put a gun to his head and killed himself in his mother’s kitchen. He seemed so happy the day before. That’s how they are . . .happy because they have it figured out, a way out of the pain, whatever the pain is it’s going away. It’s selfish. It’s devastating to use left behind to deal with the guilt and anger wrapped up in mourning. The thing is that after a lot of time I get it. I understand how alone he felt how sad he was and how ready for it all to end. I’ve found forgiveness in myself for not seeing it in him and in him for ending the life of such a beautiful being. May all find peace.
Jean, your comment gave me great pause. I'm sorry for making a connection back to such a personal, painful thing. My thoughts are with you.
Milly, your comment too struck me hard. Such a storm of emotions to be close to someone who does this. I glad that you have emerged from the devastation. My thoughts are with you too.
August 9, 1997... a long time ago.
I went through the grieving cycles several times before making peace.
Anger was the hardest. Tinges of it still try to surface once in a great while. No point in anger any more, though. It's done. And, I'm still living and loving life.
No worries, dear.
(the story I wrote for your contest was done before you posted this. a bit weird, that, but I won't change it. Can we submit more than one?)
Jean, I'm not suprised that the harder emotion still try to cut through sometimes. It sounds like you've comes a long way, though. Hard earned, I have absolutely no doubt.
(As for the contest, I do limit entries one to a person. You can check out the general rules by clicking on the last contest, In Vino Veritas, on the sidebar.)
This has so heartfelt comments that nothing needs to be said anymore. Except for the fact that its a great piece of writing. One I'll remember for a long time.
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