This is Unexpected
Your Life......Smaller
chapter 15
by
copier
· original author:
fearboy
This was it, you couldn’t take it anymore. Things were bad before, but never like this. It takes you hours to move a few inches, leaving you completely dependent on your family. They are the only things keeping you from being trapped forever in a single room. Relying on others for every little thing was too much, you couldn’t put your family through that and you couldn’t live like that. You were going to do the only thing you know you can do without someone’s help, end it.
The edge of the dresser is a few inches away, a good hour walk for you. Moving steady, in no rush to get to your destination, your remaining time is spent pondering the irony of dying by your own hand. You were positive someone else would be the death of you.
You always imagined yourself dying from some accidental misstep taken by one of your family or friends. You thought maybe it would be December pushing you too hard into her giant breasts and becoming a splot on either fun bag. Or Rachel teasing you one too many times with her glorious buttocks and flattening you under her finest asset. Or maybe anyone of them or your youngest sister or your mother or just some random passerby, stepping on you and reducing you to paste. Each option would have been tragic, not only for you, but also for the person who inadvertently killed you. At least by going by your own hand, no one will feel any guilt.
You reach the end of the dresser and the end of everything else. The ground is a few feet down, but you still can’t see it, just a seemingly never ending darkness. Knowing the floor awaited you, in a final act of fear, you close you eyes so not to see what’s coming. Then you step off.
You fall. Nothing else to really say. You blur past the dresser, opening your eyes to stare at it as you fall. You don’t reflect on the tragedy of your act, but the upside. You’ll be dead, but everyone else will be able to move on. Mom will not have to worry about you anymore and save herself from going grey young from stress. December will probably forget you ever existed, just like she forgot learning algebra last year in math class. Melody will grow up and only remember once having a cool, bug brother when she was little. Rachel will be able to find a boyfriend that can kiss her without putting him in danger.
Now, if you would only stop falling.
“Come on! How long is this going to take!”
That instant, a small breeze blew into the room. It was only a tiny puff of air that most people wouldn’t even feel, but you sure as hell felt it. You’re no longer falling, your rising now. Being carried up by the wind like a feather. Although to be fair, a feather probably weighs a thousand times more then you. Swinging your arms, you tumble around in the air. Spinning head over heels you rise, until you push your legs together and put your hands out. Then just like that you zip forward, using the invisible airflow that microscopic bacteria use to get around as your mode of travel. You fly through the air, turning your arms to the right to go flying that way. This is amazing! Incredible! Unbelievable!
“I’m flying! I’m really flying!”
The edge of the dresser is a few inches away, a good hour walk for you. Moving steady, in no rush to get to your destination, your remaining time is spent pondering the irony of dying by your own hand. You were positive someone else would be the death of you.
You always imagined yourself dying from some accidental misstep taken by one of your family or friends. You thought maybe it would be December pushing you too hard into her giant breasts and becoming a splot on either fun bag. Or Rachel teasing you one too many times with her glorious buttocks and flattening you under her finest asset. Or maybe anyone of them or your youngest sister or your mother or just some random passerby, stepping on you and reducing you to paste. Each option would have been tragic, not only for you, but also for the person who inadvertently killed you. At least by going by your own hand, no one will feel any guilt.
You reach the end of the dresser and the end of everything else. The ground is a few feet down, but you still can’t see it, just a seemingly never ending darkness. Knowing the floor awaited you, in a final act of fear, you close you eyes so not to see what’s coming. Then you step off.
You fall. Nothing else to really say. You blur past the dresser, opening your eyes to stare at it as you fall. You don’t reflect on the tragedy of your act, but the upside. You’ll be dead, but everyone else will be able to move on. Mom will not have to worry about you anymore and save herself from going grey young from stress. December will probably forget you ever existed, just like she forgot learning algebra last year in math class. Melody will grow up and only remember once having a cool, bug brother when she was little. Rachel will be able to find a boyfriend that can kiss her without putting him in danger.
Now, if you would only stop falling.
“Come on! How long is this going to take!”
That instant, a small breeze blew into the room. It was only a tiny puff of air that most people wouldn’t even feel, but you sure as hell felt it. You’re no longer falling, your rising now. Being carried up by the wind like a feather. Although to be fair, a feather probably weighs a thousand times more then you. Swinging your arms, you tumble around in the air. Spinning head over heels you rise, until you push your legs together and put your hands out. Then just like that you zip forward, using the invisible airflow that microscopic bacteria use to get around as your mode of travel. You fly through the air, turning your arms to the right to go flying that way. This is amazing! Incredible! Unbelievable!
“I’m flying! I’m really flying!”
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June 6
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