“Dum..dum..dum” – my heart is hammering hard against the ribs, sending an unpleasant feeling of neurasthenia round the body.
“It’s too high, too high.” – I whisper slowly to myself, looking down on the earth, crawling so far-far away. I’m standing on the edge of the flat roof, tied up with the ropes of blinking quicksilver moonlight and bonds of the northern wind that is blowing hard against my face. I look again and again deep down into the thin night air that strongly smells of firewood and smoldering grass.
The sky is on fire. The distant thunder is murmuring his song, rolling about the infinite far. Murderous clouds swirl in the distance like gigantic puffs of smoke, capturing mercilessly the faraway horizons, slowly advancing on me. There is something hypnotic in their creeping.
The very mother Earth seems to be frozen and rigid in some inexpressible reverie – just these vast masses of the color indigo are gliding along its invisible edges.
I wait. I hide my breath and continue scrutinizing the moving picture in front of my eyes meticulously.
The heavens are getting dimmer with every second - as if someone concerned is swallowing the crimson sky flames hastily and avariciously. The moonlight had cowardly taken the refuge behind the charcoal clouds. The ubiquitous darkness deviously wraps itself tightly about my body, lusciously caressing my hesitating feet.
The callous wind, however, is no weaker, no gentler than before. He is still daring me for this crucial step, he is still here moving these growing shadows around me.
I’m on the verge. My sight becomes glazy and I feel as barren and deserted as a leafless tree in the cadaverous heat of the Death Valley. I feel the glowing darkness slip through my snow-white smoky fingers like baneful mercury. I feel it.
My swollen mind brews fathom-like ideas of redemption – one kind of redemption possible. I don’t think I have quite the stamina to resist it. My will sways and bends like a sail caught in the tempest.
The air is now gluey; its smell becomes sickening like cheap sugar syrup that you had drunk by glassfuls. The color black is dominating the surroundings and it makes you think that it doesn’t really matter whether you look up or down – now it’s all the same, now it’s so ridiculously unimportant.
I slowly sit down on the edge of the roof and feel the darkness underneath with my feet as if I were getting ready to descend into a swimming pool. It seems so oddly satisfying and soothing – to have my feet pressed firmly against this intense gloom.
I look down trying to pierce the immense masses of black. And I see… I see the depths of the shadows prostrate their many arms to me, ready to take me into a soul-crashing embrace. Between the charcoal particles I see their vague smiles and deceitful eyes - but strangely this obscurity scares me no more, now it looks pleasant, if not beautiful.
I smile to myself – this is so simple, almost laughable.
I stand up and look over my shoulder. I’m free from the binds of light - nothing holds me back from going. A surge of cold heat sweeps over me. I open my clammy arms as if to enfold the world and make a step into nowhere.
Air swooshes through my hair and tickles my bare feet. The moment of falling seems to take up the whole eternity…
But it ends abruptly…
Author notes
A short story
A contest entry
- Dedication to the past... by skyviewexpress.
450 points, ended September 30, 2007, 8 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
-
Wow, very lengthy.. This was is very mature writing with a wonderful use of vocabulary. I love the obsession in this poem, the raw feelings that really draw the reading into the story.. Its dark, Its haunting and I can tell it was inspired by those two mad men of a genius! Thank you for entering and good luck! Wish there was more of this to read, It was SUPERB!
-
-
Thanks a lot. Sorry I was slow with the reply - but my uni takes the whole of me.
Good luck to you!
Jan
-
-
Oh!
This is...beautifully dark! 
I love the poetry you write, but I must say you've got just as much (if not more) talent writing prose. There are so many wonderful descriptions in this piece, I couldn't begin to list them all. But my favorite has to be the part about the darkness over the edge of the building being like a swimming pool. I remember reading a short-short story once that would have picked up just before yours ends...it was basically about the thoughts that went through a young girl's head on the way down, after jumping...wish I could remember where I saw it now, but I don't. 
Naturally, whenever someone writes something like this it makes me wonder if it's something they've been thinking about doing... There is a certain, seductive quality in the thought of just ending it all sometimes...but hopefully you're writing from a different place than that.
This is an awesome entry, and I hope you do well with it. Grammar, vocabulary, and able to keep the reader's attention...I think this has it all and then some.
Love and
s
~J.
-
-
Trista, my dearest,
Thanks for commenting on my amateur prose... twice. I see why you had a feeling that you've read this before - I have it on storywrite.
However, I'm glad you liked it again, lol. IT is not much of a write, too heavy with description and imagery. But nonetheless, sometimes I just want to write something of the sort, not very pretentious, just thoughts.
One of my real-life friends had accidentally read a couple of my poems and unfortunately they were rather dark (my friends don't know I write), now she thinks I'm suicidal, which I guess I'm not. I wouldn't do that for the reason of it being a complete disgrace and disrespect towards the people that care for me - my mother.
I haven't heard from you for a while, kind of miss "chatting" with you on AP. Hope you are doing fine.
Jan
-
-
Amazing writing techniqe. It brings the reader right into it. Your words paint a vivid picture of the story being told. I loved it and will most definitely be reading it again and again.
Sara
-
-
Thanks a lot! You words are very enthusiastic and encouraging. It is a pleasure to know that someone liked your scribblings.
Much regards,
Jan
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 6 of 6
