The autumn wind was howling, sending the leaves pirouetting in a downwards spiral. From afar it looked like the skies were opening up and sending droplets of vermillion, mustard, and emerald paint to the barren ground. In all reality, they were simply leaves, caught up in the torrent of despair.
I found out on the first of November. Halloween decorations were still up around town. Sad looking jack-o-lanterns stared cynically from porches and skeletons looked out of place in the new November air.
When the news came, I couldn't believe it. I sat clutching a cup of freshly brewed coffee. The heat was burning through my flesh and igniting warning signals in my brain but I was in a stupor. Time seemed to be caught in a loop and the only thing on repeat were three words:
"He hung himself."
My brain refused to comprehend these words. I faintly remember standing up, my hand knocking over the cup of coffee. The pool of dark liquid looked like blood and I felt nausea bubble in my throat. Despite the warning yells from everyone in the room, I had to see the sight for myself.
I stumbled outside, the chill November air nipping at my face. The wind tore through my thin hoodie and my skin, eating its way straight to my erratic heartbeat. I started running like a fire was being ignited under my feet. I stumbled, caught myself against a tree. The bark dug into my palms, leaving stinging red marks. But the only thing that mattered was my brother.
I stopped. The merciless world continued.
His body hung from a crudely tied noose like a late addition Halloween decoration. Leaves spiraled around him, dancing to the ground with his soul. The death of autumn seemed to mock his death. His skin had a bluish tint and blood was dripping from a hole in his ankle, perhaps from where his leg had swung at full force into a tree limb. There was a small pool of crimson blood on the leaves, reminding me of the coffee.
My body stopped responding. I fell to the ground, vomiting. The world was spinning and I could see nothing but falling leaves and dead bodies. And then, bliss overcame my body and I slumped over. My head hit the half frozen ground with a dull thud before the world turned black and everything went silent.
I can never look at falling leaves anymore without picturing his body. He was a new limb on the tree which the leaves danced around. He was a martyr which they rallied around as the leaves gave their last hoorah. I can never look at falling leaves anymore because it's too painful to be reminded that autumn and the falling leaves whisked him away. Forevermore, falling leaves will only symbolize the drain of life from him and from me.
