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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Have You ever thought about the moment when everything You did will be lost in one moment?
What will you do if Your life will lose all the meaning?
This is the story about Jim Colley, who worked all his life for the company of his dream. And it is about the outcome.


Short sounds of shuffling feet could be heard in the corridor while Jim Colley was ascending the stairs. A scent of old carpet was present in the air that was always a sign of a rare cleanup. But that didn’t bother him.

The light was not so bright to light up all the place around, lamps were blinking from time to time. The color of a blue wave was barely seen on the shabby walls.

He put the key into the keyhole and cranked it up twice.  The door crackly opened. Jim was standing in the view of the gleam.

He moved forward, turned the light in his room and slam shut the door.

Fuck.” He threw away his suitcase, it fell on the floor opened.

“Jim we can’t work with you anymore…”, the voice from within twisted in his head.

“Of course, you can’t.” Jim yelled.

“Because we’re all worrying for you.

“You don’t.”  he said through his teeth clenched.

You always were the best for all of us, but…


But.”, he exclaimed. “Tim Root, you’re such a bastard.”

He took off his shoes and coat and threw it all on the floor and went to the bathroom to calm down and wash his face.



He was standing at the sink and watching in the mirror at his face that was full of grief and agony. His hair was disheveled. Bags under his eyes were swollen and violet. His eyes were red with blood.

The water was pouring from the tap squishing.

His hands were trembling. He put them under the pouring water to draw it. Everything was blurry in his vision. His temples were pulsing and a piercing sound could be heard in his ears like a drill to the brain.

Tim listen to me, I am not going to betray our company and you know it.

Yes, Jim indeed I know it. But time makes some corrections in our lives. Sometimes it’s not in our hands to decide what decision will be appropriate for you and for me and we need to choose the lesser of the evils.

“AAAAUGHHHHHHH” He flapped with his hand and threw off all the shaving lotions and balsams he had. Fingers bit into his brown hair for an instant and then with a fast move he wrested a strand. It left in his palm. He looked at it for a moment and left it lying on the floor in the bathroom.

“You fucking son of a bitch.”



He left the bathroom. The clock was ticking on the commode.

2:23 AM

He went to the vinyl player and turned on his favorite Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

It started playing.

Jim liked the lightness of this music. It was circling in his head making him feeling relief.

He took a bottle of whiskey and went for the glass.



He turned on the light in the kitchen and started looking for the glass. It was standing on the shelf. Not hard to find and also not hard to reach even if you’re drunk to hell.

He looked on the view of the kitchen, it was so poor that Jim was sick of looking at it. He was not interested in making it beautiful.

Jim left the kitchen scuffling.



Jim filled in the glass from the bottle. Whiskey, the rare one. Just like Jim likes. It was not the first time for him to have this kind of “points”, “seizures”. Sometimes it took place in his common life.

He sipped it first, to feel how it proceeds inside, through him. How it is feeling. Light sweetness and delight.

Yes, I like it.



He went to the bed and fell onto it. The bed creaked.

Relaxed he was looking at the ceiling and thought.

When this fucking day will be over.

It was a moment of silence, only wind was blowing outside, scratching with the branches of the trees in the windows.

Then something went not as it was planned. Suddenly he felt not as usual. Like something jumped inside of him.

My heart.

He put the hand on his heart and started to measure the heart beating.

But then again. It hurt so bad. Jim started to scream. He tried to roll over. It was successful from the first attempt. He saw the phone and began to crawl on his elbows to reach it.


AUUGHHHH! That hurts.

He stretched out his hand to reach the phone. His hands were trembling, his temples were pulsing, the sweat was dripping from his forehead.

C’mon, c’mon. You bastard.

Suddenly he felt a shrill cut of pain inside. But that was the last drop he could sustain.

His hand fell down on the bed, head was lying with eyes closed. Only fingers were trembling from time to time.

Submitted: January 05, 2020

© Copyright 2021 J.R. Patrick. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:


Criss Sole

I really liked how you describe everything so well, I could picture it perfectly. This was an enjoyable read.

Sun, January 5th, 2020 2:09pm

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