A Beautiful Night

A Beautiful Night

A Story by Demyra

The night was warm, nature was alive and thriving-slivers of moonlight beamed through the thick forestry overhead, and as the breeze caused the leaves to sway, it almost seemed as though the earth danced beneath me.  The crickets meshed well with the 'pitter patter' and rustling of the ecosystem that moved around me-everything within its own rhythm and rhyme, nothing off beat or out of place. Occasionally I might've heard the rapid flap of bat's wings as they snared subtle delicate creatures like moths, or preferably mosquitoes.  Everything fit-every sound, every visual-was the most pristine definition of natural one could imagine.
The fireflies were beautiful, as they radiated in their way around me, accenting the mainstay of the pale moonlight with their vibrant illumination-but the thing that'd shone the most to me that night was the gleam of the metal, reflecting moonlight far brighter than anything else nearby could-in this almost ethereal utopia one might've argued it clashed with the serene scene-and I would not then, nor now, disagree-but it was here for a reason.  I was savoring the most beautiful thing I might ever know in this world-the one environment it may then have felt natural to live and die in. This-in itself-was beautiful to me. I found more peace in that gun than I had at any other moment of my life thus far, in the resolution-the coming end. The light at the end of the tunnel.
My "note" was written hours ago, laying on the pillow beside the only person in my life who may have even remotely deserved an explanation.  I had, until this moment been savoring this beautiful last sight, but my hands were steady as they slowly picked up the gun, softly rustling the leaves as I attempted to avoid disturbing the vital ebb and flow of life around me.  My heart began to pick up the pace-eager, and anticipating that one final moment.  The one thing in my life I would have control of would be its end, and I would be free from the perpetual woes of an otherwise stagnant existence.  I was beyond ready for this-envisioned it for years, attempted, for years, to bring this release into existence. When I tried before there was adrenaline-strain-but this was perfect, and I put the barrel between my lips, closed my eyes-the mental image of pulling the trigger, of falling into eternal quiet brought one final sigh from my lips-resigned and relaxed.
You are familiar with the concept of your life flashing before your eyes, I'm sure-or at least heard of it. Things you couldn't even remember before race through your mind, in the most jarring, intense moment of your life. Everything slows down in an explosion of overwhelming, undeniable adrenaline, and you experience your life-all of it, in one overloaded instant. In less than one full second-I went from resolute to feeling like my mind was crumbling.
I saw my childhood-my father may never be a savory memory-but my mother was everything. Strong where he was weak-where I was weak, my guidance and my reason--my push.  I never percieved it as a child, as an angsty, bratty child who imagined the world pressing down on them-just how much she had to fight to keep me pulling my head out of the dirt-how much she ended up tarnished and worn thin being the adhesive for opposing forces.  Every time anyone ever asked me if I was okay that I dismissed-every smile flashed to me I viewed as pretentious-the "antagonists" which even included my father endeavoring to show me "tough love"-drastic actions that didn't then mesh with my tunnel vision, that were clearly intended with my best interest in mind. Looking into the eyes of my beautiful child, the tether I felt to that life, and doing everything I could to make this world a better place for them than myself-and keeping that smile on their faces forever.  Their first words-first steps-the warmth of them cuddling beside me. Their heart beat slow and metronomic-beautiful and all I needed in this world to keep me afloat.
Then, I saw my mother-aged and worn from the hell of having raised such a selfish child, suffering again, the deepest agony a child could ever force upon their parent-on her knees and bawling as officers endeavor to isolate a crime scene, as they investigate my death and load up my remains. 
The beautiful nature around me that would freeze and or flee as the gun goes off-
I saw every person who ever wished me well at my funeral-and the thoughts I had before that, "Well, some good it does..."-the sarcastic and bitter dismissal of anyone and anything that ever tried to reach out to me in my life. 
My child's eyes losing that luster, who would never understand how I could ever have loved them and left them all alone. 
Their life without me.  
Everything that could just have meaning if I didn't pull the trigger-if I put the gun away and continued forward with my life and embraced even a single sliver of the goodness my mind blotted out-if I carried forward with this newfound revelation-just what my life could become.
All of this occurred between the inch of the trigger's pull and the click, as the chamber of the gun sounded, hollow and metallic. 
I had done it. I pulled the trigger-and now I was mortified as I released the gun-somehow still sentient as I watched it fall, the world now covered in a slow and droning cacophony that froze my blood in my veins-sending instead ice to tear at the corners of every limb.
Then the gunshot sounded-loud and piercing, blinding and jarring me further. All I could hear and feel was my heart as it pumped the jagged ice rapidly through me.  The moment was as beautiful as it was frightening-I was alive, my heart was pounding-my chest was heaving.  I survived the barely human trance I had fallen into, and I was wide awake and alive-and ready to face the world with a renewed vigor.

© 2017 Demyra


Author's Note

Demyra
I haven't edited this. Wasn't sure if I was gonna share it here-buuut hey.

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I like the darkness combined with the beauty of this story; the irony of such a pretty and peaceful environment being the place of a death. Love the descriptive imagery, great job!

Posted 4 Years Ago



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Added on July 31, 2016
Last Updated on March 28, 2017

Author

Demyra
Demyra

Columbia, SC



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