VampQueen
03-25-2008, 04:56 PM
This story is about what might happen if someone who was unhappy in life was given the chance to die. It's bad, but I thought I'd post anyway.
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Not Till I’m Dead
Another day. I woke from my twisted sleep of demons and crows, seeing the light had at last appeared. But now the true nightmare begins. Not again. I have to get up again. Do I have no peace? Maybe I could lay here for just another minute or two and relax before I face the day. But my tormented mind rages on and on. I can’t lie down, I’ll just have to get up again.
I drag myself over to the sink to wash my hair. Take a quick glance in the mirror. God I look like a monster. Must use makeup. I smear on some red lipstick and find I look worse than before. My head pounds from the incessant verses playing inside my mind. I’ll be late if I don’t hurry. I run upstairs as if chased by a phantom. I look forward to my few moments of solace in my little cluttered room. I look at my pictures and read my poems, and for a minute or two I am in another world. I smile as best I can at the thought that I’ve already made it through another morning. Just get the through the rest of the day and I can dream again.
But I have no concept of how long a day can be when spent in torment. Monsters call my name, screeching, growling, demanding my life and blood. I am drained. No more I think. But I can’t end it. Not till I’m dead. I search about in the deepest corners of my mind for an answer, a reason for all of this. I am a slave, we all are slaves. But I am the only slave who knows I am not free. You all live under an illusion of freedom. I would rather live in despair and know the truth than be happy and a fool. For a moment I smile at this thought.
Not till I’m dead. What if I died tomorrow? For a moment this thought flashes through my mind. I’m not suicidal, but how nice would it be if this all would end? I stop. I couldn’t do that to those I love. That would be unfair; they wouldn’t understand. But I still linger for one sweet moment on the thought.
Tired, I decide I’ve had enough of one day and lay down on the cold floor of my room. I am afraid that if I sleep on the bed I will never get up again. I stare for a few minutes at the spreading brown stains on the white ceiling until I begin to see frightening shapes in them. I close my eyes.
Then, out of nowhere, they appeared. Four shadowy figures, one male and three female. The man wore a cloak and seemed to have no face, and the women were identical. I later realized they all looked exactly like me, but different hair colors, one coal black, one blood red, and one snow white. Everything in the room seemed to fade away so that all I could see was them. I was startled and entranced by the ghostly visitors. It was as if I was slipping away, into another world both terrifying and wonderful. Then the male ghost spoke. I could not understand his words, but their meaning was clear as glass. My wish had come true. I would die tomorrow, but only if I chose to follow them.
My mind clouds with fog; I slip into a trance. All I can think of is death’s odd romance. I can hear their voices; they call out to me. Would it really be so bad if I leave? I glance at the clock, it’s 11:11. I have 49 minutes to decide my fate. The visitors slowly fade from my vision, and I realize if I choose to go, this will be my last 49 minutes alive. What will happen after I die? Will I stay with the visitors? Will I live here as a ghost? Will I have another body, in a different world, a different place? What about heaven or hell? The questions pound in mind, clouding my perception. I must snap out of it. I have to think, this is truly a matter of life and death. My own life or death. But what good is life when you are living in hell? I think of the pain, the daily torment from inside of my own mind. Death is my only escape, I think.
It is now 11:45. I have made a decision. I will leave this life, hopeful for a better one or no life at all. What is stronger than death? I close my eyes, listening to the ticking of the clock, counting the seconds till their return. For some reason, time seems to stand still, giving me more time agonize over my decision. I pause yet again. Something comes over me, like a soft breeze. For a moment, the faces of those I love flash through my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, willing them to go away. But they remain. I cannot leave them. Tears begin to pour from my eyes, I open them and see the visitors have returned. The faceless man holds a clock; it’s one minute till midnight. The women stare blankly into my face. I feel a deep despair, but with the last of my strength I stand and speak to them. “No,” I say. “Not this time.” They glare at me for a moment, and then fade away into the shadows from which they came. For the first time in months, I look out the window and see that it is spring. A small black bird hops about on the grass and then flies away into the sky. And though I do not know what I will do next, how I will continue this life, but I know I made the right decision. And someday I know the visitors may come again and claim my life. But not yet. Love is stronger than death.
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Not Till I’m Dead
Another day. I woke from my twisted sleep of demons and crows, seeing the light had at last appeared. But now the true nightmare begins. Not again. I have to get up again. Do I have no peace? Maybe I could lay here for just another minute or two and relax before I face the day. But my tormented mind rages on and on. I can’t lie down, I’ll just have to get up again.
I drag myself over to the sink to wash my hair. Take a quick glance in the mirror. God I look like a monster. Must use makeup. I smear on some red lipstick and find I look worse than before. My head pounds from the incessant verses playing inside my mind. I’ll be late if I don’t hurry. I run upstairs as if chased by a phantom. I look forward to my few moments of solace in my little cluttered room. I look at my pictures and read my poems, and for a minute or two I am in another world. I smile as best I can at the thought that I’ve already made it through another morning. Just get the through the rest of the day and I can dream again.
But I have no concept of how long a day can be when spent in torment. Monsters call my name, screeching, growling, demanding my life and blood. I am drained. No more I think. But I can’t end it. Not till I’m dead. I search about in the deepest corners of my mind for an answer, a reason for all of this. I am a slave, we all are slaves. But I am the only slave who knows I am not free. You all live under an illusion of freedom. I would rather live in despair and know the truth than be happy and a fool. For a moment I smile at this thought.
Not till I’m dead. What if I died tomorrow? For a moment this thought flashes through my mind. I’m not suicidal, but how nice would it be if this all would end? I stop. I couldn’t do that to those I love. That would be unfair; they wouldn’t understand. But I still linger for one sweet moment on the thought.
Tired, I decide I’ve had enough of one day and lay down on the cold floor of my room. I am afraid that if I sleep on the bed I will never get up again. I stare for a few minutes at the spreading brown stains on the white ceiling until I begin to see frightening shapes in them. I close my eyes.
Then, out of nowhere, they appeared. Four shadowy figures, one male and three female. The man wore a cloak and seemed to have no face, and the women were identical. I later realized they all looked exactly like me, but different hair colors, one coal black, one blood red, and one snow white. Everything in the room seemed to fade away so that all I could see was them. I was startled and entranced by the ghostly visitors. It was as if I was slipping away, into another world both terrifying and wonderful. Then the male ghost spoke. I could not understand his words, but their meaning was clear as glass. My wish had come true. I would die tomorrow, but only if I chose to follow them.
My mind clouds with fog; I slip into a trance. All I can think of is death’s odd romance. I can hear their voices; they call out to me. Would it really be so bad if I leave? I glance at the clock, it’s 11:11. I have 49 minutes to decide my fate. The visitors slowly fade from my vision, and I realize if I choose to go, this will be my last 49 minutes alive. What will happen after I die? Will I stay with the visitors? Will I live here as a ghost? Will I have another body, in a different world, a different place? What about heaven or hell? The questions pound in mind, clouding my perception. I must snap out of it. I have to think, this is truly a matter of life and death. My own life or death. But what good is life when you are living in hell? I think of the pain, the daily torment from inside of my own mind. Death is my only escape, I think.
It is now 11:45. I have made a decision. I will leave this life, hopeful for a better one or no life at all. What is stronger than death? I close my eyes, listening to the ticking of the clock, counting the seconds till their return. For some reason, time seems to stand still, giving me more time agonize over my decision. I pause yet again. Something comes over me, like a soft breeze. For a moment, the faces of those I love flash through my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, willing them to go away. But they remain. I cannot leave them. Tears begin to pour from my eyes, I open them and see the visitors have returned. The faceless man holds a clock; it’s one minute till midnight. The women stare blankly into my face. I feel a deep despair, but with the last of my strength I stand and speak to them. “No,” I say. “Not this time.” They glare at me for a moment, and then fade away into the shadows from which they came. For the first time in months, I look out the window and see that it is spring. A small black bird hops about on the grass and then flies away into the sky. And though I do not know what I will do next, how I will continue this life, but I know I made the right decision. And someday I know the visitors may come again and claim my life. But not yet. Love is stronger than death.