They watch, they see. They look on as he cries, as he kneels in front of the gravestone, as he howls at the sky. No one understands, no one gets it. He's still here, in our hearts they say but he's not. He's gone and isn't coming back, he was taken when he was needed most. They try to sympathise, to comfort, to take it off his mind but they fail. Their pathetic attempts make it worse. They, the friends, the parents, the social workers and the teachers, they think they know what's best but they don't. They watch as he stands in front of the mirror, hating what he sees, they see the pain in his eyes. They gaze, as he ties that noose over and over again, as he sharpens the knife, as he loads the gun. No one understands, no one gets it. He's gone and all that's left is a shadow. A shadow of what was a happy young boy who loved life and everyone around him. Now he hates it, hates it all. They taunt, threaten, laugh and tease. No one is a friend and no one can help. They watch as he lies at that gravestone, as he swallows those pills, as he leaves this horrific world and goes after what he lost, what was taken from him, the only one who he loved.
Rip Kieren
YOU ARE READING
Dark Imaginations
Short Story"Horrors are experienced by few but all can imagine". A collection of what goes on in my mind, care to drop by and see what you find ?
