When Senses Fail

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
He landed with a thud.

He could feel his legs break.

Blood slowly seeped through his shattered skull.


A tribute to my fave band Senses Fail, and one of my fave song by them "The Priest and The Matador"

Submitted: June 17, 2008

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Submitted: June 17, 2008

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He landed with a thud.

He could feel his legs break.

Blood slowly seeped through his shattered skull.

He lay watching the clouds, picking out the odd one in the shape of a dog or a cat.  

He could hear footsteps.

A woman. She screamed.

“Oh Dear God, phone an ambulance. I think he has fallen.”

Why did she pretend to care?

He wondered where Sarah was. Was she happy?

Tears sprung to his eyes just thinking of her with her new boyfriend.

Harry, Henry, Harold?

Something like that, it didn’t matter.

She was better off with out him any way. Sarah needed some one who could love her more than he.

This she by right deserved but his black broken heart could never give that.

He looked over to the cathedral opposite.

A priest stared blankly at the boy who lay kissing the ground.

Almost like he was deciding what to do.

He knew the boy had jumped but he walked over any way.

The priest bent down at his side.

He flicked through his bible until he reached what he was looking for.

He began to read him his last rights.

 “It’s too late,” the boy thought, “Salvation requires faith, which I do not have. So save your breath.”

But he continued his speech half-heartedly.

The priest did this more for him self than the boy lying twisted on the sidewalk. This they both knew full well.

What was the point in trying to save some one who was already dammed in the eyes of the lord?

Suicide victims don’t get into heaven.

A crowed had gathered.

He didn’t care.

All he could think of was Sarah.

The way her skin felt, how her eyes flickered, the scent of her perfume, her laugh, the way she tasted…

She was his life and with out her life was meaning less.

He coughed. Blood spluttered out from his throat.

A rib.

It had shattered and splintered into his lung.

Blood now pooled there.

Couldn’t be long now.

Would she notice he was gone?

He hoped not. It was best she didn’t.

It had hurt her so much when he left. But he had to.

The pills – those ones he had to take- they stopped him feeling depressed alright, hell, they stopped him feeling ost things.

He couldn’t let he live through that. After all it was what was best for him, for her, for them both or so he thought. It wasn’t long before living with out her became just to hard.

A man bent down.

Slowly he looked at him.

The man grabbed his hand tightly.

“Son, don’t worry, we’re going to get through this one. Take my hand and let us prey.”

He screamed “Please get the fuck away,” sending blood and saliva sailing out.

The man was only trying to help, and this, the boy knew, but he couldn’t be saved. Nor did he want to be.

He wanted to die.

That’s why he had climbed to the top of the high rise building.

That’s why he had clambered on to the wall.

That’s why he slipped his way to the edge.

That’s why he had taken a deep breath and stepped out with out hesitating.

And that’s why he lay there now, gasping for breath.

The police had arrived first, pushing back the crowd and clearing a space.

Over the approaching sirens he could hear a woman’s shrill screams.

It was her, Sarah.

“Please don’t look at me, love,” He whispered in his head “Please don’t look.”

He started feeling cold, numb, distant.

It was hard on her now but she’d soon forget.

The surrounding Noise began to weaken.

He took one long, last breath. Slowly his vision faded as the paramedics finally reached him.

They took one look at him and shook their heads, so young they thought.

A sudden rush of joy swept over him.

This was it.

It was over.

The paramedics began to state, “The time of death is half past six.”

And there he lay, broken, bloody but free.


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