Grace Is Gone (Prelude)

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

Not sure where this is headed, just wrote what came to mind.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - Grace Is Gone (Prelude)

Submitted: October 06, 2012

Reads: 104

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Submitted: October 06, 2012



I wandered the empty dark streets in a drunken haze searching for answers, only to find none. The questions is all that continued to mock me; as though they had some kind of life of their own.

“Where did they go?” What am I to do?” I walked with hope; as little as it may have been, it was hope just the same. The great beyond was where the answers were; and that was farther than this bottle of bourbon would carry me. The bourbon soon had me making my way toward a bench where I laid down hoping to awaken and find it was all a nightmare.

It was around seven when the rays of the sun penetrated my eyelids; encouraging the headache that was pounding my head. I swore off booze for as long as I lived, and I did not plan on that being for very much longer.

I reluctantly rose from my hardwood bed and looked into the face of another pointless day. I came upon Florence’s Pastry. The cold night air had frozen the dew that had been left on the glass door. I closed my eyes and imagined the fresh baked rolls I used to smell when passing the shop.

I went to a grocery store and looked around, “Anyone at work!” I looked around as if I were half expecting someone’s head to pop up and answer me. I let out a forced laugh as I grabbed an apple from the straw basket at the checkout line.

I ate my apple and took in the morning sun. I had big plans today, plans to get out of this soulless world once and for all. “Yes sir, at noon I will be through having to contend with this silence filling my ears.

I took the last bite of my apple, thinking how they say when you die you lose control of your bodily functions. It doesn’t matter for no one will be around to witness it, there was never anyone around.

It had happened over six long weeks ago. My wife had made my favorite, lamb and I was stuffed. I did what any married man does, I sit back in my easy chair and watched television as my wife worked on her knitting.

It was sometime during the pistols firing from the new episode of Gunsmoke that I feel asleep. When I awoke my wife was gone. The whole city was gone; as if they never existed.

Now, for six weeks I have not had contact with a living soul. If I don’t end it today I know I will go mad. One last string of sanity is all I am hanging on to, and I want to be the one to cut it.

It was drawing closer to that time, the time of my departure. I smiled as I thought, “I wonder if Adam and Eve ever saw it ending this way.”  

The place I chose to end it all was where it had all ended already; my easy chair. I set down and pulled the .38 from my coat pocket. I had no regrets; I anxiously awaited the peace of mind.

“Lord, I do not know why I am the last man on earth, but I pray you forgive me.” I prayed.

The cocked the trigger back and buried the barrel into my mouth. There was no need for me to have the courage. The real courageous thing to do would have been to live; dieing was easy.

I eased my finger around the trigger to give it a gentle squeeze. I never felt a thing, and soon I was relieved of the pain. The memories of this world faded fast; as did my life.

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