This is the end, my last breath. As the sun shines on the ground, it shows what I have done. My lungs fill with air and exhale despair. I am a soul divided, straddling two worlds. I feel you beside me, with me to my dying moment. As my life falls away, I seek absolution. Darkness creeps, vision blurs, I listen for your breath to fill the holes in my mind. I have stripped myself of breath. Will I die or will I fly away? I'll let you be the judge. I have no more verdicts to give, no more defenses to justify, no words to speak with. My mind is screaming submission. There's someone at the door, they've called for help I'm sure. I do not hear the sirens. I do not feel them lift me from the clothes I killed in. I have left my weapon in the kitchen sink.
I whisper, 'Don't be afraid, we're going home." I don't think they hear me.
I stand, in the dark, on the sand, looking out at a black sea. The quiet seems violent, vibrating in the air around me. A dark speck appears on the horizon, where grey meets black. I watch as it grows larger, and on the breeze I hear the beating of a heart. Is it my heart? No, it's the beating of wings. A large bird takes form from the dark spot on the horizon, growing nearer with ever wing beat. It's hard for me to see, where ocean stops and sky begins, random strikes of light turn the ocean blacker than black. My soul is under attack as the bird nears, blotting out sky. An albatross descends upon me. I crash to my knees. I can't fall down anymore, I'm already on the floor, the sand grinding beneath my palms as the tears and fears begin to multiply and I wait for the impact of rending beak and talons.
Another day goes by as my own body wages war on me. One part of my heart is free, while the other sleeps. I don't hear the monitors and machines go silent or the sighs or regret. I hear a word more than any other word, 'sorry, so sorry, I'm sorry, we're sorry." I wonder who else hears that word.
The albatross does not strike me, but lands upon the sand beside my feet. I try to walk away but he follows, his wide feet imprinting the sand next to mine. I raise my hands to shoo him away, but I have guns for hands, barrels for fingers, my mind the trigger. I pull them behind me and stumble towards the quiet violence of the sea. Gathering on the horizon, the clouds anticipate, and I'm moving quickly towards a storm, hands held higher, I wade into the water. My ocean grave is just beyond the sand. This is not what I had planned.
I feel my soul start leaving, up, up, up to the ceiling. I'm holding on to what I know, but I must let go. I swear I hear demons yelling, pointless curses, saying I'm worthless. I'm insignificant, why won't you let me go? I hear the wings, the albatross must be back. I asked forgiveness three times, the same amount he denied, but the dark's not taking prisoners tonight. I feel the rhythm, the pulsing, the voices, beeps. They told them I was gone, but it's my heart that makes the beat.
Before I know it I'm lost at sea, the water surrounding all my surroundings. Why won't you speak where I happen to be? Floating, I cry 'take my life, take my soul,' instead you let the water wash away everything I've become. The water becomes blacker than black, until it's hard to tell the difference between blood from the water. I realize the only difference between life and dying is one is trying to defeat the demons and find purpose. Redemption's not that far.
I cry, "I'm coming clean, God hit me straight on." The darkness is going to grey, the sun will rise. The albatross floats away.
A hearse pulls up onto the sand, it's door swings open. I rise from the water, plodding onto land. I look inside, standing cowardly. I can feel my death, but I want to know you. I want to see you. Wearily I climb into the back of the hearse and lay my head upon a pillow case. I feel I should be concerned. I think I dropped the bat when every base was fully loaded, or shot my general on my side of enemy lines.
The driver looked me in the face and said, '"Where's your home? Where are you going and why are you here? We had to steal you from your fate so you could see another day." He wore a backwards baseball cap with an unruly tuft of hair dyed brightly red dropping over his forehead, as if it were defiantly escaping confinement under the hat.
'What have I done? Why am I here?'
The second man turned around. His dark hair was buzzed short and his eyes were hidden behind large round sunglasses with white plastic frames. 'I'll tell you all I can, but your mind will take a stand. Let me know when you've had enough.' Then he told me of a greater love. 'Don't be afraid, we're going home.'
Then the hearse ran out of gas and turned into a taxi cab. I was sitting in the back seat, staring at the driver's head, but now this time there were three men. All I saw were backs of heads. As we drove, the driver contrived a new route to save the past.
'Am I alive and well or am I dreaming dead?' I asked.
They spoke as if in chorus, 'I know you are afraid of many things, but you need to let go if you are going to live the life you should.'
Then You put me back in my place so I might start another day. I sit up and find the breath I'd been searching for. I had romantic fantasies of what dying truly is, but He has turned back time.
I scream, terrified of what's around the corner as the door opens. I'm looking towards the morning sun.
I'm faced to deal with what I feel, as mama enters my room. My pride is no longer inside, there is no distraction to mask what is real.
"Ruby, take my hand. We're all battling fear.' Mama has come to sing me to sleep. "I know it's hard sometimes.'
'Yeah, I think about the end just way too much.' I cry, tears washing my pain, like the sea.
My fingers weave with hers. I see the paper circling my wrist, the tape, hiding the evidence of my affliction.
'I'll live for you, but that's hard to do,' I whisper. 'I've been thinking too much.'
Mama leans over me and touches her lips to my forehead. 'No matter what, never forget you are my pride and joy. We'll take it slow.'
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FanfictionA short story story using lyrics from all Twenty One Pilots albums to tell the story.