*The ending of this story was based on “Kaleidoscope” by Ray Bradbury*
10:48 PM. Not the right time to die…..not the right time…..no turning back where he’s going. His car keeps trudging forward. He made sure his fuel was empty…he can’t afford to have a way out of this………temptation is strong. Too strong. The road is as promising as a corpse, he thinks. The road is where it all starts…and where it all ends. What a beautiful symmetry…He sees the sky. It’s as black and cold as it is infinite. He made sure….this is the spot….one of the only places where there are no stars. He can’t afford to see something so beautiful…might give him a reason to turn back…He’s got the lighter in his pocket and the oil to his right. He guards them as if they were his children…
Look at this idiot. Sitting there in his car like some dead-beat sob story induced dog…You want a bone little doggy? So weak. Pathetic. Useless. Hopeless. No wonder this world’s going to hell…Look at this piece of filth and tell me that he doesn’t deserve what he’s getting…One thing you gotta admire about him though………he’s done crying…….
10:59 PM. He’s getting closer….His eyes are dry. Nerves of steel. The right kind of steel. The kind that heats up and MELTS….He’s driving to the summit. Not many tourists this late at night….Even if they see him….no one’s going to bother…..Of course, they might spread the tale but it’ll be a myth to the ones that hear it…in the eyes of few but in the hearts of many…….how wonderful, he thinks. He worries that he might have been too generous with the fuel. It should be near empty by now…..He’s had a good life…good enough. Just not happy enough….or long enough……
The dog has finally reached the top. It’s taken him long enough. The thing with dying is that you have to keep moving forward…any hesitation or lingering and you turn into some sentimental maniac. The lights have shut off…he’s out of fuel…..good…..This took some planning. Must have spent months preparing the details. The good part is coming…….
11:29 PM. He could have chosen a gun. Or just jumped. But he doesn’t want to do that….it’s too mundane. Happens every day. He wants to go out like a star—a brilliant supernova of light. He gets out of the car. Not too slow. Not too fast. He walks to the edge of the summit. The night is silent. Serene. Calm. Just like how he’s feeling. The moon shines brilliantly, as if silently agreeing with his choice. No clouds tonight. No wind. This is a good night. A perfect night.
Come child…Take my hand…come to the light. It’s so warm here. The fire burns bright here. I’ll take care of you…you don’t need to worry about anything…Just one my child. One leap of faith is all you need to be with me. Once you cross over—there’s no such thing as pain where I live, my child. No cruel world. Just Eternal bliss. Take my hand…
Love this part. LOVE it. Something so exciting and suspenseful about it…..This must be what it’s like to be an innocent little child on Christmas morning….to go downstairs and see what Santa has gotten you….of course, that’s just the part that the parents make up to make their children BELIEVE. This guy definitely believes……..he just doesn’t care……..a broken doll…….
11:59 PM. This is it. The moment of reckoning. The moment that he’s been waiting for.
He’s so brave. Look at him. He takes the oil, screws off the top. He tips the canister over his head. Just like soldiers before a battle, he remains calm and composed. I don’t know how he does it…he makes it look so easy…He’s on the edge, standing precariously. What a man. Here he is, done with the life he lives and going on to the next one. This is strength. This is honor. This is conviction. This is death. Come my child!
11:59 PM. About 26 seconds to midnight. His heartbeat is steady. Not even jumping around the slightest bit. He raises his hand. Eyes closed. He breathes. Slowly. The gentle hum of suspense sneaks in.
THE MAIN EVENT. The only thing I really came for…..It is spectacular….It is beautiful. It sends shivers—shivers of excitement—down my spine just to talk about it. How majestic. There’s nothing that I’d rather see…..
My hero. How it must feel. He raises his hand. The lighter sparks to life. The fire dances and rises. It revitalizes. Nourishes. Warms. How beautifully the fire looks under the night sky….how beautiful he will look when he falls! He raises the lighter over his head…
12:00 PM. He lets go.
He lets go.
He lets go. The fire is beautiful. A wide range of colors overflows his head and spreads instantaneously. Red, orange, yellow—beautiful against the night backdrop. He doesn’t scream. Not even yelp. And then—He falls.
12:00 PM. He falls.
He falls. Looks like a bird—but not just any ordinary bird, but a—
Phoenix. He is a fiery angel. He gives hope. He’s a hero. He’s my hero. But his calculations weren’t precise enough. Someone SAW…
12:00 PM. He never would have been able to foresee this. But someone saw. It was nobody important. Just some kid on a nearby farm. He’s not sure what to make of it at first. He’s young. Far too young. But he saw it fall to earth. He SAW. He thinks it’s beautiful. He doesn’t see a man burning—He sees a star—a brilliant spectacle of color and hope. He smiles. He closes his eyes. He makes a wish.
He makes a wish.
He makes a wish.
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