Scrambled Eggs

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

Scrambled Eggs is a short story I wrote about a woman called Jane and her want to be without life and the ways she might get there.

Scrambled Eggs
Written by Craig Longford


Jane stared at those eggs. Center of the plate surrounded by several pieces of toast, cut in to soldiers.
They surrounded the egg, made sure the egg couldn’t get free. That’s how Jane felt.

Jane lived alone, she had no friends, no family, no one for her to be with. At least that’s how it was in her own head.
The world had abandoned her, left her for dead. Dreams crushed and energy depleted. She often pondered over her eggs what the world would be like once she had gone.

She thought of all the ways she could leave her existence, how she could just get away. Jane remembered the time were starting again seemed possible, but now the only light she could see was the end.

Lifting the knife from the table, she conjured up many ways she would use it to end it all.

A quick few slashes across the wrists, just before the pain stopped her, it would be enough to bleed.

She thought about how she could plunge the knife into her own heart, just missing the ribs to make sure it was a clean cut. Or the throat, yes the throat. A quick slice straight across, it would only need one.

Placing the knife back down on the table, the blade shone in the sunlight pouring through the kitchen windows. Taking her hand away, she looked at those eggs.

The heat of those eggs caused steam to dance as she watched them. They never moved, but she already knew that.

As she watched the eggs, she thought about walking in front of a car.

She would stand on the side of the road, waiting for a passing car and just step out. She imagined her body being thrown into the air, her twisted remains landing in a rag doll fashion across the bonnet before being hurdled down to the cold concrete of the road.

Passes by would come and gorp at her as she lay there, last of life leaving her.

Traffic would back up and people would be late, but she didn’t care. She knew it was what had to happen.

Snapping back to reality, her eggs now cold. The butter on the toast had merged completely. The toast had become soggy and unappealing.

Jane imagined a bridge, she would walk by the bridge, just shift her weight over the safety rail. No one would have chance to stop her, down she would fall but to what end?

Would it be water at the bottom? Maybe she would do it over a motorway. No water there..

What if she took sleeping pills, waited for them to take effect and then jump in to the river. She wouldn’t be able to struggle, she would just drift off into nothing.

She thought of fish, nibbling at her body as she lay there cold and wet, the water filling her lungs.

The clock chimed 8 o’clock, the sound waking Jane from her thoughts. As she looked up, she knew it was that time again, time for work.

She got up from the table, leaving the now cold eggs and headed out of the door. Click went the lock.

Did she return that evening? I don’t know, maybe she lived her dream.

The only sure thing, was maybe all Jane needed was a little ketchup in her life.

Submitted: January 05, 2014

© Copyright 2020 DeltaWolf7. All rights reserved.

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This wasn't bad. I fell pity for Jane, and he views on life. Really good, I like the ending especially.

Sun, January 5th, 2014 2:28pm

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