A story is about a man's decent into insanity after his wife committed suicide for an 'unknown cause'.This is a short story that I wrote for my Creative Writing class last year 83 My teacher actually asked me for a copy of it <33 I still love it immensely...Story and characters, ideas and such by me...COPYWRITED BETCHES...no stealy D:
Forever will that day be etched into the back of my memory like chiseled pictographs, retelling the same story over and over again. It was a story I have never been able to release myself from; a story that has haunted me every single year I have set each foot to walk on this earth.
The rain pounded against the casket with a deafening roar that challenged the very thunder in the sky to meet its raucous volume. And still, no sound could pierce the breaking of hearts and the sobs all around me that day. The darkened sky matched the darkening in our hearts as we mourned the loss of a loved one. She had left us, and it was my fault. I knew I had been the one who drove her to this. Kirsten Elizabeth Asher-Suicide. I wasn’t alone in my accusations. I’m sure that those who attended smelled the stench of fault upon me. I could tell from the gleam in their eyes that they accused me—Peoples’ eyes tell you everything. The tongue can twist its words and bend its tone, the body can mislead and feign whatever it wishes, but the eyes remain the truest of all. And in their eyes, I could see the malcontent and the blame. The fault couldn’t completely lay on me, could it? Yet, no matter how much I told myself this, the more I felt it covered me like my own burial shroud.
That summer, Kirsten and I would have been married for five years. Never had I imagined that I would be one to attend her funeral. Always, I carried with me a sort of fantasy—no, a dream, a goal, perhaps—that we would grow old together and die together, our fingers entwined in a tight lace just as they were on our wedding day. Never had I pictured suicide to be a cause of death. It was unfathomable, impossible, and dismissible. Why on earth would we ever throw away our happiness and erase our existences forever? Perhaps that was what drove me around in my inane circles, my self-loathing and psychosis. I couldn’t wrap the concept around my finger—the reason for her death. We had loved each other, didn’t we? I had given her anything and everything she wanted, I had adored her with everything that I was, and it still wasn’t good enough. I was happy with her, we were happy together, weren’t we?!
But…She wasn’t happy.
* * *
The day of the funeral had faded back into the passage of time, as all things did. The hurt eased, but the loss was not forgotten. The funeral had passed, but the tombstone would forever be a marker of another loved one lost. Another name carved into the stone, another place to lay the flowers down, another angel statue to be mounted in place—hands placed on an aching heart, head cast down as forlorn eyes watched the poor soul whose tombstone was theirs. Three years had brought spring veering back, and once again it was time for those who knew Kirsten to lay the flowers down at her grave. There, they would lie until they withered away, the grave keepers collecting them and throwing them to add on to the meaningless pile with their rotting siblings of nature.
Though the rain did not fall on that anniversary day, clouds ever fogged Evan
Asher’s heart. Only three years, and everything had been thrown away. Nothing seemed to hold the same meaning anymore, and he had given up on rediscovering their importance.
All of his money had been squandered away. Purposefully, he seemed to want to spiral himself so deeply into a self-made destruction, that perhaps he would simply be wiped away from existence. He did not eat a decent meal often anymore; at the end of the month, he barely had enough money to pay his own bills. But he had given up on such mortal grievances. Rather, if he could have fallen over dead from starvation, Evan would have figured that to be better for all. Work was now something of a foreign knowledge to him. Only a month after Kirsten’s death, and his workplace had to let him go—they could only stand his behavior for so long. After that, he did not think to find another job. He had enough money, and should it run out? Well, he didn’t care about that either. His savings had been wasted as well, and surely a job would pull him out of this rut—but he had no job and money only lasted so long. Money was needed to buy clothes and food, food was needed to live, but he was convinced his reason to live was dead and his will to survive had died with her. It began another downward spiral.
In only a few dozen events had Evan ever left his house. The lack of sunlight had bleached his skin to a milky color that would have even made Snow White blush with jealousy. His limbs had grown lanky and thin from malnourishment and atrophy. After all, the only thing in all those years he had ever constantly done was lay in his bed. Day after day he lay there, curled in his blankets as if he were a caterpillar lost tight in its cocoon. He truly wished that the blankets would simply swallow him up and take him far away from this place.
Finances and his money were no longer a concern to him. It had been two months since his power had gone out—a week and he no longer had any running water. The bills that had been neglected paid for themselves by repossessing everything of value that he owned. Until at last, the only furniture he held in his care was a meager lawn chair. The fabric on the bottom was mere threads from tearing, and sending him crashing through the seat (His weight--or lack thereof-- was the only thing that prevented the event). His days consisted of the same thing: Evan sat in that raggedy chair, staring at the wall. Upon it, his wife’s suicide note was nailed deep into the plaster. Her written words would run over and over in his head until he could safely restate every word by memory. The man would sit and stare at that dirtied, crumpled piece of paper for endless days, his eyes never blinking in yearning of rest. Sleep was never something Evan confided in if he could help it. If and when he would reach that point of exhaustion, a pile of his clothes that lay in heap on the floor acted as his bed. It wasn’t often that he allowed sleep to take hold of him.
Nightmares beleaguered his sleep like the plague swallows its corpse; and he knew in his heart he could never be rid of them. Thus, peace was never with him. Anytime he closed his eyes her image flashed before him. Evan could only seem to recall the very last time he had seen her: Broken and mangled upon the sidewalk. She had jumped to her death, breaking herself upon the cement like a fragile porcelain doll. Somehow her face had managed to remain free from any injury. Kirsten’s face had been so peaceful, as if she was simply…asleep. The back of her head, however, had been smashed to ruin, open and gushing, dyeing the cement and saturating her body in that crimson filth. It had taken every ounce of strength Evan had at that moment when he first saw her body not to rush out and embrace her, kiss her, and hope she would miraculously wake up.
He would have given anything to hold her again.
* * *
With a startled jump, Evan convulsed and brought himself back into the world of his swirling reality. The man whimpered like a child, and what a pitiful sight it surely would have been: Seeing a grown man tremble like that. Hunched over, he clutched at his stomach as the results of his eating habits began to claw at his insides. ‘God…I’m so…so sick of this…’ He was exhausted, so tired of feeling this way. His fingers wrapped around the roots of his hair—he felt like ripping each strand out from his scalp. “Just stop it…” he breathed, as if he could will away his terrible situation, as if this was all just a figment of his wretched imagination—a nightmare. His desperate eyes dashed about the room, hoping to find it all to be some sort of illusion, hoping that he would hear the noise of breakfast being made downstairs and Kirsten’s gentle humming above the hiss of the frying pan. But nothing dimmed and faded from his vision, and the only noise he could hear was the soft scratching of the note wavering from the draft inside. Thunder shook the windows.
Slowly, he stood from his heap on the floor, his legs quaking beneath him. No longer could he play this pathetic role. He wanted answers. He wanted them immediately. His hopeless hands reached out, groping for the paper tacked upon the wall. Without a moment’s hesitation, he ripped it down. She wasn’t happy. That was her excuse…but he couldn’t believe it. No, he never believed it. Why wasn’t she happy? He had done everything for her. He loved her with every part of him that was possible. He cared for her, protected her, worshiped her…but yet she wasn’t happy? No, that was a lie—a goddamed lie. “You selfish bitch!” He screamed, his voice rattling as he croaked out the first words he had spoken in so very long. “The hell you weren’t happy..! I gave you everything—everything you hear me?!” Instantly his fingers ripped savagely away at that note, reducing it to a mere pile of meaningless scraps.
And then, this man, who had not breathed barely a whisper in years, suddenly erupted in screams. Like a madman, he clutched at his head, cutting his throat raw with the shrieks that he released from his crumbling form. She had ruined him. Kirsten had utterly destroyed his life and his potential. He could almost hear her laughing at him; he knew she must have been amused at all his suffering. “Is this what you want?!” the madman coughed, demanding an answer from an invisible form that would never respond back. Damn her…he hoped she was burning in hell.
Sharply, he turned upon his heels and flew down the stairs in a desperate flurry. He couldn’t stand to be in that place any longer. That place that wasn’t good enough for that ungrateful bitch. Evan flung one of the cabinets open and stared upon what would be his weapon of choice.
* * *
For only a moment had he stayed to watch that beautiful inferno as it burned away eight years of his life. The fire engulfed the house and swallowed the entire building whole with no mercy. The thunder and the lighting called out in the distance, and pulled him back from his trance. He knew he had to leave. Again the thunder called out like funeral bells, and the clouds crashed once more until they began to give way to rain.
Blindly he ran through the stinging drops of rain. Needles seemed to ripple along his skin in an endless torrent. His legs had a mind of their own, and Evan completely submitted to their desire. Wherever they would take him, he no longer cared. However, it wasn’t long before the muscles in his legs began to throb and stiffen. His sides cramped and it became too much of a chore to run. His mind screamed for him to stop, but his body didn’t comply. At last, tired legs gave out beneath him and he crumpled to the earth and laid there in the mud. His chest heaved with an entirely new sense of fatigue. His mind was splitting into all different directions, and he felt as if his head might literally explode. Hunched over, his body shuddered against the echoes of the resounding thunder, as if it could rouse him from the inane ideas clotting his brain.
As the consciousness faded back, his eyes became clear. The fog that had clouded before had faded, and he was left standing in a field of stones. Immediately, he knew where he was. Trembling limbs did their best to lift Evan up. The tombstones filled around him like an assembly line. Near and far the graves showed through the curtain of the downpour. His legs had brought him there of all places?
Once again, he gathered the strength that had not been completely sapped away and forced his body to lead him farther. And though his mind gave his legs no foretold direction, he knew exactly where he would find himself. Before long, he had reached his destination. In no time at all, he stood before her grave. The legs that held him for so long collapsed, and Evan fell gracelessly to his knees. The mud collected around her grave—It felt as if he was sinking into it; as if his body had been caught by the clutches of her quicksand, that would surely drag him down into whatever depths of hell she dwelled in. He clutched the ground; his fingers strangled the strands of grass just poking out of the earth. If he held on...then she couldn’t suck him down. Yet, as his eyes examined her stone, only the slightest hesitation kept him from reaching out and tracing the letters of her name. The damned whore…he loved her so much. Still, he loved her with everything he was. But she had betrayed him.
Evan slumped back and tilted his head, following the statues body. It loomed over him like a demon, and he quaked in that humble position, knelt before it like a servant to his master. And as he gazed into the eyes of his demon, her face began to seep into his mind, into the stone. He gaped in horror as her countenance became ever clearer, and the howling of the wind all at once turned into the screeching of her voice. Her beautiful face contorted in rage.
His eyes were playing tricks on him, but he did not have the ability to reason anymore. Kirsten was there before him, singing a banshee’s hymn, and she fully intended to drag him down to the depths of hell to join her forever.
But he refused. He refused to let her get the better of him again. She had taken everything from him the moment her head smashed against the asphalt and her heart pumped its last beat.
The sight of her face caused a queasiness to rise in the pit of Evan. He had looked upon it for quite long enough: no more would her eyes haunt his dreams and mock the misery it created. With a cry that could chill the blood, Evan groped from the nearest weapon his fingers could wrap themselves around. The stone was large and smooth, a perfectly convenient tool to carry out his plan of action. The rock met the statue’s face in a split moment, and it’s features were completely obliterated. Evan shook with excitement, at last releasing the emotions that had been suppressed. At last he was fighting back. She wouldn’t get the best of him…And yet, before the breath of relief could expand his lungs, a bolt of lighting resonated in the sky and lit the burial grounds before him.
He was surrounded by them—those mounted statues of commemoration. No matter which one it was—they all held her face. No matter how far, he could see their stone eyes piercing through him. Hesitation no longer knew him as he charged for the statue closest to his person, bashing it’s face away in a crazed panic. He wanted those eyes to stop…he couldn’t stand feeling them scan his body; his soul was exposed before them.
* * *
A sharp pierce of pain shot through his lungs as he gasped the stormy air to catch his breath. His fingers were bruised and bloodied, but that was the last of his worries. The legs that had held him collapsed as he breathed a whimper. Again, he crumpled upon the familiar ground that held the bodies of those long since passed. He rolled upon his back and stared beyond him at the blacked sky, the rain still pouring from the clouds above. At last, his thoughts began to clear and he felt an alarming peace cross through his body. For how long he laid there, Evan didn’t know, but time no longer meant anything to him. Everything and anything seemed to be rushing through his mind all at once. For years he had only been able to think of Kirsten’s death, and nothing else seemed to matter.
His arms outstretched toward the sky, his hands spread wide as if he wished to catch each and every drop of water. Strangely, a thought suddenly reverberated over and over in his mind. It was something Kirsten had told him when they had first met. ‘God is in the rain’. Never did he understand what those words were supposed to mean…he hadn’t dwelled on it for long. Yet, as he laid there and let those endless beads of water wash over him, he felt a sense of peace. This was the peace he had been yearning for since the funeral day. But the rain had no reached him then…he was a fool to ignore it. All this time, God had been speaking to him. Evan knew, now, and he had been reborn.
A smile formed upon the crease of his lips as his eyelids grew too heavy to support them. Suddenly…he felt so tired.
* * *
“How’s he doing back there?” Ron yawned, waiting for his partner to start the engine. They had paused for a momentary pit-stop, though they both knew they had to quickly be on their way. They were carrying precious cargo.
“Fine, I’m sure.” Shaun replied as he climbed back into his seat. “I won’t be surprised if he catches pneumonia, though, with as long as he must’ve been out in that storm.”
“A miracle.” Ron scoffed, his words brewed with sarcasm. He crossed his arms as the van began rumbling while the engine came to life.
“Wonder what the crazy bastard was thinking.”
“Obviously, he wasn’t thinking much. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be driving him to the loony-bin.” Ron’s indifference greatly bothered Shaun. But then again, it was none of their business. Shouldn’t they be desensitized to all this by now? They had toted numerous people to the asylum before…it was their job, no less. At least Evan Asher was the quietest patient they’d received.
* * *
Evan’s head was pounding terribly as he began to regain his consciousness again. No longer could he feel the soft ground beneath him, but now he was within the confines of some place he had never known before. The floor beneath him rumbled, but the possibility of an earthquake was impossible. His strength had been sapped from him due to the night before, but he urged his body--still--to lift itself up off the floor. Eyes surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings, and Evan was at a loss of what he should have felt at that very moment. As he turned, his eyes met with a small glass window-—the only window. Light from the sun seemed to shine past it, hovering around it’s edges giving it an otherworldly glow.
He stumbled towards it and pressed his head against the glass, looking out at the world beyond it’s barrier. Before him expanded a sight that left him breathless. A magnificent gate sprawled out before him, stretching to lengths that were unfathomable. He knew at once where he was.
Beyond were the gates of Heaven, and they opened just for him.
((Comments? Love? o3o ))
