Slapdash of Sorrow

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
In this short story, the main character's life flashes before his very eyes. He suddenly remembers all the grief and misery in his life and views them very pessimistically. All this culminates to him contemplating if he should just take the final step...

Submitted: December 01, 2016

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Submitted: December 01, 2016



He was contemplating if he should take the next step. 

"This is it. It was all a matter of life or death. Or was it life and death? What was the saying again?" He could not remember. Not at a time like this. Anyways, what did it matter? This was no time to be wondering what the proper saying was.

He was standing on the edge, staring down below. He was never one to be afraid of heights. But for the first time in his life, he was afraid of heights. Looking down, seeing anything and everything looking as tiny as ants. Cars were zooming past in their usual hectic chaos. People were moving about, some were hurried in their steps, others taking their own sweet time. 

Life was still going on as usual for everyone else. But how could it? How could life be going on as usual for everyone? There he was, suffering, in so much grief, but the world is not going to stop for him? Not going to offer a hand and say, "Here, we will help you. Don't grief, it will all be okay," Is no one going to care?

Flashback to 3 days ago. His boss was staring at him intently. He was standing opoosite his seated boss, not even daring to sit down and face the consequences.

"This was a mistake. A very big one. You should not have done what you did. This is not the modus operandi of the company!" his boss shouted.

He wanted to reply, but could not. What was he going to say? Anything that he said was just going to anger his boss even more. Whatever he said was just going to be used against him.

"This is the final straw. I have given you way too many chances. There is no way in hell that I am gonna give you any more. I don't know how many times I've used the phrase 'second chance' with you! It's become a nuisance and I simply hate the phrase. This is the final straw. This is the end of the line for you." His boss said everything with finality. He just walked out. Didn't even bother to pack his things. What was there to pack? A couple of pens? His briefcase? There was nothing. He just walked past his desk, walked past his staring colleagues (who were talking in hushed whispers to each other while looking in his direction) and walked out the door. He was ashamed.

The wind was very strong where he was standing. He was afraid that it would just blow him off and he would fall to his death, before he even made the decision. But how could it? It wasn't as though he was paper thin. Not like all the men of his age. They went to the gym. They work out. They have bodies that all the ladies in the 21st century just go gaga over. He had nothing. Nothing but flabby arms, a big thigh and a podgy belly. His clothes from a few years back barely fit. His belly was very obvious no matter what shirt he wore. He tried to lose it all, oh he tried! Countless hours running. Trying to lift weights. Diets that made him miserable. Nothing worked. He was too much of a stress eater. And he had a lot of stress. So the stress eating never stopped. It just got worse.

"This is the end of the line for you." The final words of his boss came ringing in his head. End of the line for you. End of the line.


He looked down once more. End of the line. Was this it? The end of the line? Life was still going on down there. 

Even though he was so high up, he heard a bunch of teenagers breaking out in a guffaw. Yes, they were that loud. And that happy. That joyful. 

Where was his joy? And happiness? And... and... and friends?

"What friends? Don't make me laugh. You are pathetic!" said the voice inside his head. He wanted to dispel the voice. Tell himself that the voice was evil. And that it was full of lies. But it spoke truthfully. Honestly. Not like any of his "friends". The voice was always frank. There was never once where it said something that wasn't the truth.

"Right? Right?" He tried to reassure himself once more. But he could not. He was defeated. He was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally... All this exhaustion took a toll on him physically as well.

He could not fight the grief anymore. The sorrow anymore. It was just too much.

He turned around to look at the rooftop garden. Perhaps his friends would be there to save him. Perhaps they would tell him that it's okay and that he had nothing to worry about. That they were there for him and that everything will turn out fine.

There was no one.

He had no friends. There was never anyone that was there for him. He always had to fend for himself, fight his own battles. While everyone else had friends and people always at the ready for them. Always there for them.

It was no fault of his. People just never understood him. It was not as though he was weird. He was like any other person. But for some reason he was not understood. Not appreciated.

"All alone...." came the voice inside his head once again. This time it sounded more menacing than ever. But once again, it was spitting the truth. No lies, no BS. All truth.

No one. No one was there for him.

Even his parents. His siblings. They all left him.

They told him he was an embarrasment to the family name. To the family as a whole. His mother always asked him why he could not be more like his older brothers. They were successful. They made big bucks. They had fancy houses, cars. Women. They had it all.

He had nothing. All he had was a now run down apartment. The whole family left him. Never contacted him ever again.

He was cut off. Their ties were severed. Maybe it was for the better. But then again, now he was all alone, for real.

"End of the line."

"You are pathetic."

"This is the final straw."

"ALL ALONE......"

His vision was blurring. His eyes were watery. What was going on? He was never one to cry. He could not see well anymore. The ants below him all looked a blur. Nothing was in focus anymore.

He rubbed his eyes. His vision improved at first, but then it happened again. 

He kept rubbing at his eyes, but it was pointless. The salt water from his eyes never ceased to leak.

The wind was picking up again. The sky was darker than it was when he first came to the top. It threatened to pour soon.

This is the end of the line.

There was nowhere else to go.





He placed one foot over the ledge. And then withdrew it.


He was contemplating if he should take the next step. 

© Copyright 2018 Sufi J. All rights reserved.

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