His Time to Die

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: March 27, 2017

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Submitted: March 27, 2017

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Yesterday they found his body washed up by the shore. Despite the initial shock regarding his death, people soon came to a silent agreement that they'd seen this coming from miles away. After all, suicide had always been in the boy's vocabulary - a fact to which not only his friends and parents, but also mere acquaintances would attest. Next morning his photo graced the front page of a local newspaper, and this revelation sent a collective tremor down his family's spine. Neighbors saw the boy's mother weeping and clawing at the walls, her sobs now turned into one continuous moan interrupted by an occasional hiccup. His father on the other hand dealt with the whole situation in a more reserved manner. Growing up with the mentality that men must stuff their emotions inside a bottle and throw it down a well, one could often find him sitting at the kitchen table, staring out the window and trying to swallow his tears. One thing that both his parents shared, however, was that they couldn't help but feel responsible for his death. Had they not given him all the opportunities they themselves lacked at his age? Had they not sacrificed all they had worked for just so that he could have a shot at a better future? Yet he chose to squander all those opportunities by throwing himself off a bridge, leaving behind a blackhole where he used to reside. 

As a result of his suicide, a tumultuous ocean emerged between his parents, forever keeping the two apart, and neither of them possessed the will to swim to the other side, for the boy had also robbed them of their motivation to try. 

Time passed and the silence that engulfed the house grew louder, and his father's attempts at making things more bearable reached a dead end, until after a year or so the parents decided to sell the house, leaving behind only a lingering memory of their child. 

Yet as they drove through the silence of the night to their new apartment, the mother's heart was overwhelmed once more by memories she had promised herself to bury. Instead those memories regained their voice, bursting into a loud laughter that echoed through the recesses of her mind. She recalled how she used to kiss her child's forehead before saying goodnight, how she used to talk to him in his favorite cartoon character's voice when she washed his hair, how she used to record him sing songs and draw all over the walls, and she thought about how much love she'd given him and felt betrayed, wondering if she'd made a mistake in giving him so much. With fresh tears stinging her eyes, she turned to her husband and said, "Where did we go wrong?" But when she received no reply from him, she gave herself away to the tide of past sorrows and wept. 

And the car pierced the night's sullen air with fierce determination. 
And somewhere across the world, a little girl looked at a postcard from Vancouver, longing to leave her home and one day be able to visit this beautiful city. 
And somewhere more remote a starved child thought about licking the bones of his dead parents. 
And the earth opened its mouth one last time before the sun retired, accepting the lifeless body of another human being who had willingly left this world behind. 

And so the story goes. 


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