Suicidal Night

Kyle haves a party but something turns drastically wrong.

            He stood beside the plastic window, staring at the rain drizzling down to the ground. The droplets fell melodically in the dark night, despite the quiet whisper of the wind. Transfixed on the rain, he traced upon the window with his index finger.

            Cans of Mountain Dew and two slices of pepperoni pizza was seen on the table nearby. With the television running, a sense of accomplishment could be sensed. Popcorn crumbs were scattered across the room, and dishes lay on stack of each other in the kitchen.  Several jackets flung loosely over the leather couch, and chairs were scattered throughout the house. Some cases of his medication stood open on his dresser. They were empty.

            As the man continued to look outside the window, his eyes drifted to where the cars parked for the little get-together. He held parties often for the simple reason that “people ought to live a little.” Throwing parties once a week, he was classified in the “cool” category.  Loose. Relax. Flexible. He was accepted among all.

            Several minutes passed along until he moved from staring into the dark night. He turned around, and walked towards his bed to watch TV. With his computer nearby, he began to browse on the net�"starting with facebook. The television was playing re-runs of a UFC fight between Chuck Liddell and who knows who. He enjoyed watching Chuck Liddell take down anyone that crossed his paths, but tonight he didn’t seem very interested.

            As he began to shutdown his computer, he saw the computer read 11:50 p.m. He closed the computer and walked out of bed. Standing, he slipped his hand into his pocket to scroll through his list of contacts. As soon as he opened his cell phone, he closed it. He then began to walk to the T.V. but quickly turned to the television only to see a crow gazing at him. He walked to the television and turned off the T.V. Beginning to proceed to the kitchen, he looked back to see the crow gone.

            When he walked to the kitchen, he looked at the papers on his refrigerator�"“What is life? All you have is yourself. Do what you want because you are all that matters.” Looking at the papers for a moment, he walked towards the cabinet to retrieve a cup when he saw a bloody knife. In awe, he stared at the knife clothed with death and looked behind himself to see the rest of the knives in place. He looked once again where the bloody knife lay. It wasn’t there.

            “*****llllllleee”

            Thinking that he heard his name called, he stood still and listened. And listened.

            “********yylllllllleee,” a ghostly voice seem to echo throughout the house. “I’m coming for you, tonight.”

            Slowly, he creped over to the door outside of the kitchen. With the door closed, he already had an advantage point, but if the thief had a gun that wouldn’t matter.

            “What do you want!” he yelled.

            No answer.

            Knowing that talking or shouting wouldn’t work, he kept silent and locked the door. The lights were still turned on on the other side of the door, but when looking underneath the door, he didn’t see any shadow. The once near voice seemed non-existent.

            “It’s those drugs again. I should’ve figured.”

            Being tired from the night, after all holding a party does require a lot of energy�"he turned off the lights to go to bed. He turned the alarm clock off, not wanting anybody to get him in the morning. Being 12:00 a.m. and late, he closed the blinds and dove into his bed. Sad and alone. Than darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            “Dude, do you even think you buy us off!?” shouted Drew.

            “What do you mean? I am just holding a party like every other week and you . . .”

            “You’re trying to impress us. And, it’s not working. So let me tell you something. I’m saying this for your sake, you are annoying them and me to death! You know why we come to your parties? It’s because we feel sorry for you not because we accept you. So, leave us alone.”

            SLAM!

Than darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~         

            “It hurts doesn’t it, Kyyyyyyllle?”

            Waken from his sleep, he raises his head abruptly.

            “Who’s there?”

            No answer.

            As he looks in the room, he finds the window is letting in a breeze, and the door standing wide open. He hears the tattering of the rain upon the sidewalk. Kyle gets out of the bed to stare outside the window at the rain. And, he just looks and looks.

            Like in a trans, he slowly turns around and walks outside the room into the hallway.

            “Yes, Kyyyyllllleee . . . come to me. Cooooommmmme.”

            Making his way down the stairs in the dark night seemed to be like an everyday ordeal as he was heading towards the back door. When at the back door, he hears another voice�"behind his right shoulder.

            “Are you sure you want to enter my world, Kyyyyyylleeeeee?”

            “I’m sure. I’m not scared of you,” replied Kyle.

            Kyle lifted his hand and slowly turned the doorknob. As he walked outside on the grass, the cold rain pelted his skin.

            “That’s it, Kylllllee. Keep on coming forward.”

            Kyle walked forward like a zombie. Undaunted by what seemed like a mission at 12:00 a.m., he walked forward until he saw a huge hold engraved in the ground.

            “You’re here Kyyyyyyllllle. Now, do it. Dooooo it.”

            “Do . . . do what?”

            “Your hand, my child . . . . Yourrrrrr hand.”

            Looking at his right hand, he saw that he was holding a bloody knife! How or when it got into his hand, he did not care.”

            “Now, let the pain enter in, myyyyyy childddd.”

            Kyle raised his knife and pressed it against his chest. Pressing the knife against his chest, he felt the sharp teeth biting his skin yet no blood gushed out quite yet.

            “Doooo it . . . remember the pain. Remember! Remember how Drew hurt you. Remember how you are a failure in life. Remember!”

            All at once his failures, anger, and disappointments rushed into his mind. His classmates, his neighbors, himself, life, God, everything. Life never goes as he would want it to go. The question why he didn’t do this sooner only appalled him.

            “I do remember. And I ask myself this one question, why?”

            In one quick motion, he thrusts the blade through his flesh. And, falls into the hole that was calling his name.

            Than . . . . Darkness.

 

R.I.P

Kyle Sherlock

Friend & Comforter.

One Who will be Missed.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Your storyline is strong & compelling . . . Your storytelling is logical, believable (even tho fantasy-like). What distracted me a little bit -- your spelling & grammar are not always smooth & you tend to use extra words & phrases that are not needed. Your opening line: "rain drizzling down to the ground" -- "down to the ground" is completely useless information that doesn't add anything to an opening that needs to be dynamic or otherwise grabbing the reader's attention. Another example: "As he began to shutdown his computer" -- "As he began to" are needless words -- get to the point. He shut down the damn computer. Another example -- in the paragraph starting "Being tired from the night, after all holding a party" -- you use sentences that start with "Being this" and "Being that" (two different times in a short paragraph). This is passive voice. When you are writing a thriller, you need to be writing in active voice -- start sentences with action, using dynamic verbs -- "He slammed his hand down on his alarm clock to make sure it would not blast him in the morning." Your storyline & storytelling are tightly woven, strong enuf to overcome weaknesses, so this is a good story to read. I'm just giving ideas on how to sharpen your writing even more (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Ethan Paz]

Thank-you for the review. This was written in my younger days when grammar, logic, and reasoning did not yet make sense to me. I have not published many poems or stories since. Kudos for your care and effort in this review. It is something I will remember when I write in the future. -Ethan

[Rosie Brooklin]

I love how expressive you are! This was a very creative story, and I'm impressed by how you chose to lay it out. Very well done! I only have two critiques:

1) It is riddled with minor grammatical errors, such as "was" instead of "were", fragments, etc.

2) I'm not a big fan of how the personification of depression says the character's name. If I had written this, I would have described his voice as a "long, drawn out hiss" instead of typing out "Kyyyyyle". But that's just a personal preference; I'm sure there are varying opinions.

Once again, very well done! I thoroughly enjoyed this.

[Coyote Poetry]

A story with a sad tale. I like the expressed the story. Leading the reader to different places and situations. I like the conversations. Death is a final road trip. No way back after you decide the journey. Thank you for a powerful story. A excellent story.
Coyote