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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

James is a normal boy, mom recently died. His girlfriend then breaks up with him, he then feels as if he wants to die... Please read this book if you're feeling depressed.

Submitted: September 14, 2018

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Submitted: September 14, 2018



James (Short Story)

By: Jayson Whitehall


As James pointed the gun to his head, he thought, “Nobody will miss me, nobody understands…” then pulled the trigger.

CLICK, the gun was jammed. James fell to the ground and began to weep, weeping not for himself, but for others. The front door opened…

“James I’m ho-” her voice trailed off into an abyss. Lying there, James was crying with an M9 Beretta handgun in his hand. His plan hadn’t worked like he wanted it to. He was sure he would be in trouble.

But instead, she stood there in the doorway dumbfounded, as if she walked into an invisible wall. Then she walked over to James and got down on her knees.

“Hold my hand, James.” said James’s Aunt. Then, they both began to pray. Thanking God for what he had done. But it was not God, it was not luck or even coincidence. No, it was far beyond that…

James wasn’t popular, nor was he invisible, he was just- there. He played football, but didn’t hang out with the football dudes, he felt like he didn’t belong with them. They were just too cocky. But not James, James was the opposite of cocky.

James was very creative, he had such a wild imagination that he sometimes came off as crazy to others. He was not crazy, at least that’s what he thought.

RING! The first bell rang as James barley made it to his first hour history class. He wasn’t tardy this time. He really despised U.S. History, it was just another burden to him. It was filled with political discussions and voting and blah blah blah.

“...James, answer the question,” said Mr. Niegle with his scaly voice.

“Ummmmm…” he struggled to find an answer. He gave up.

“1775, November of 1775 was when the U.S. Marine Corps was created.” Mr. Niegle was a former Marine and fought in the Persian Gulf War. He was James’s favorite teacher though, which made James angry as to why he had to teach such a boring subject. Why not English? Why not Science? James was distracted by his own thoughts when the bell rang.

“James, can you see me after class?” said Mr. Niegle.

“Sure, Mr. Niegle.” retorted James.

Mr. Niegle motioned for James to sit down, James complied, and sat down with a little unease. Was he in trouble?

“James, I notice you’ve been very distracted for the past few weeks…” Mr. Niegle paused to clear his throat, he continued.

“What’s going on James? You’re not usually like this, you’re a smart boy and you know it, now please tell me what’s been bothering you?”

“It’s just…” James paused to think for a minute, “Just I get really distracted with my own thoughts, and I don’t know what to do.” Mr. Niegle’s eyes narrowed, as if he were studying James. He sighed.

“I know you get distracted, we all do. But I can tell there’s something more.” Mr. Niegle spoke in a calmly manner.

James knew what he was talking about, but didn’t dare share it with him. Recently, James’s mother had died in an accident, and his dad, well… He’s in jail for a long time. James moved in with his Aunt in August, and has been quite depressed lately.

After school, he went to football practice and did what he usually did. Worked hard, did his job.

He then went home to find his girlfriend Denise standing at his doorway.

“Denise?” asked James in question. Denise turned to look at James, and said two words.

“It’s over.”

James felt like he had been punched in the stomach. They had been together for years, why would she do this all of a sudden?

“You’re joking, is this a joke?” asked James.

“Do you think this is a joke?” hissed Denise, and showed him her phone. It was text logs. But they weren’t from him, they were from someone pretending to be him.

“Denise, that wasn’t me, it must’ve been-” James was cut off…

“Oh Denise, it wasn’t me, blah blah blah, shut up! I’m not falling for your guilt trip!” She ran off.

James called after her, but it was no use. It was over.

James ran inside and put the code in the safe, he grabbed the M9 Beretta out of it. CLICK, he loaded the magazine, cocked it back, and pointed the gun at his head. He pulled the trigger…

TINK. The gun did not fire, he tried again, with no other result. The gun was jammed. Instead of fixing the jam, he put the gun down and wept.

James’s glare fixated on the door when he heard the doorknob wiggle.

“James, I’m ho-” her voice trailed off as she looked at the gun on the floor, then at James. She stood frozen in the doorway, then slowly moved towards James.

“Hold my hand,” said James’s Aunt. James was surprised. He took her hand, and she began to pray. Began to pray for their lives, for everything. Bit it wasn’t God who did this. No, it was far beyond God, beyond anything. It was called destiny.


The Moral: There’s much more to life than boys/girls. Don’t let someone drag you down, live life to the fullest and enjoy it while you can.


© Copyright 2019 Jayson Whitehall. All rights reserved.

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