The Suicide

A man experiences an out of world journey after taking pills to end his life. A bonus very short story, The Bewitching Hour, is featured first in this episode.

Hosted by Kyle Coffman. Short stories written by Elliot A. Stevens.

Transcript

Copy

Hello listeners and welcome to Dark Corner. My name is Kyle Coffman and I'll be your host on this episode.

Today we'll be listening to two short stories, with the first one being very short. 

Disclaimer, the second story discusses suicide, so if that is a sensitive topic for you, I do want to mention that. If you are suffering from issues where you think suicide is the answer, I'm here to tell you that it is not. There is help out there. You can contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255 or visit their website at  www.sprc.org

"The Bewitching Hour"

by

Elliot A. Stevens

     A harvest moon hangs in the clear sky above a small-town arcade. The parking lot is packed, both with cars and teenagers enjoying their Friday night. Dave, about fifteen years of age, exits the building, his light jacket in hand. One of his young friends approaches.

     "Hey, Dave, a bunch of us are headin' over to Christie's," his friend begins. "Her parents are outta town the whole weekend. You comin'?"

     "I better not," Dave answers disappointedly. "My mom's been ridin' me about gettin' home late."

     "All right, man. See you."

     The friend scampers off.

     Dave checks his digital watch. It's 11:56 PM. He puts his jacket on for the long trek home. He starts down a dirt road that runs behind the arcade.

     When his watch beeps at midnight, Dave enters the woods. Remaining on the road would be a slightly shorter route, but would also require a pass by the centuries old Mill's graveyard.

     After tramping through very thick underbrush for several minutes, a look of suspicion appears on his face. He stops. The distant sound of footsteps rustling through the leaves are heard, but abruptly cease.

     Thinking that a friend is playing a prank, Dave peers into the dark forest behind him. Something catches his eye. He squints for a better look.

     In the far distance he spots a form, the stationary outline of a man. Dave watches intensely, and soon comes to the horrifying realization that it is not a man at all, but a creature like none he's ever seen!

     The monster stands upright on two legs and is covered with shaggy hair. It is fixated on Dave, as an animal its prey.

     Dave turns around and hurries on.

     Soon, he ducks behind a tree and peeks back. Again he sees the creature, still unmoving but now closer!

     However, this time Dave notices something in its hand. With a sidelong glance he recognizes the object to be a large, scythe-shaped claw!

     Dave takes off in a panic, running as fast as he possibly can through the shadowy woods, thoroughly unaware of the many minor cuts and bruises he is incurring along the way. In such erratic haste, he soon discovers that he's lost.

     More than half an hour flies by, and his aching lungs allow him to run no longer. Figuring that he's now safe from the graceless beast, he rests on a stump. His heart pounds and he gasps for every breath. Cold sweat drips from his rosy face.

     However, before he can relax, Dave spots a tiny light flickering among the trees. He observes with increasing concern. Then, out of the blackness the monster comes limping towards him! The shiny flicker was its claw reflecting the moonlight.

     "Good God!" he hollers, leaping to his feet.

     Dave takes a few swift steps and promptly trips over a log. He falls to the ground and lies there dazed and winded.

     After regaining his faculties, he jumps up and brushes himself off while frantically scanning the woods for the hairy pursuer.

     Confusion and astonishment explode onto his transfixed face as an incredibly dense fog mists in, swallowing the forest whole.

     He turns to continue on, and finds the massive creature only inches in front of him! Dave screams. The monster thrusts its mighty claw!

     Dave manages to duck the swing, and races into the fog.

     Blinded by the fallen cloud, which seems to glow in the rays of the moon, he can hear the heavy, lumbering footsteps and merciless panting of the monster coming near!

     Dave grunts and groans in horror, stumbling every step of the way. Suddenly, he smashes headlong into a row of rusty metal bars. Finding that it's a gate, he snatches it open and runs through, unwittingly entering the old Mill's graveyard he had set out to avoid.

     Dave staggers around the fog enshrouded cemetery, disoriented and out of breath. He trips over a crumbling tombstone and falls on his back across a grave. A pair of skeletal hands burst from the ground and grab him! He struggles madly, but can't break free.

     A shadow crosses his face. He looks up and sees the creature standing over him! Slowly, its claw rises between Dave and the full moon.

     Dave empties his lungs in a deafening shrill that reverberates in all directions. One of the skeleton hands attempts to cover his mouth. Terrified, he closes his eyes as tightly as he can.

     In a rapid jerk, the creature slams its claw downward!

     Beep! Beep! Beep!

     A wisp of a breeze cascades through the forest. Crickets begin to chirp.

     Dave cautiously opens his eyes, and is positively astounded by what he finds.

     Everything has returned to normal! The fog is gone. The skeleton hands are gone and the ground looks as though it has never been broken. But most importantly, the monster is nowhere to be found.

     He glances at his watch. It's 1:00 AM. The bewitching hour is over.

     Dave cracks a smile, and with renewed vigor resumes the long journey home.

The End

"The Suicide"

by 

Elliot A. Stevens

     Hello. My name is Paul Baker. I'm twenty-eight years old, and I think I'm dead. In fact, I'm sure of it.

     I don't know what it was or when exactly it happened, I just woke up one morning with the sense that life was going on without me. Nothing had meaning to me anymore.

     It wasn't always that way. There was a time long, long ago when parts of my life sparkled like diamonds. At least they did to me.

     Then, somehow, the diamonds lost their luster, and the meaning, my meaning, slowly faded away.

     Maybe it was her, Michelle. The most precious of God's creations. The great play ran so smoothly inside my head. But now she belongs to someone else. I guess some things just weren't meant to be.

     I've always believed in God, the afterlife. I became a born-again Christian at the age of seven. To me, death has never been something to fear, but rather something to embrace. Besides, we all have to go some day. For me, there was really no sense in putting it off any longer.

     I thought Friday would be the best night to do it. Nobody would notice me missing until Monday, if at all. I wanted to give the pills plenty of time in case I lapsed into a coma or something, and didn't die right away.

     I began taking them around midnight, one by one with a glass of cold milk. Soon, however, the medicine coated the inside of my mouth. I figured that might happen, so I bought a candy bar while at the drugstore.

     Unfortunately, the chocolate took on the same chalky taste of the pills and I had to spit it out.

     By the time I got down to the last two pills, the powdery taste was so stringent that I knew I would throw-up if I took them. So I didn't. I couldn't risk it at that point. I'd already crossed the line and knew I would never be able to repeat the process. Anyway, forty-six pills should've been more than enough.

     I turned off the television and went to the bedroom. Like every night since I was seven, I clicked on the nightstand lamp and randomly opened my red-letter edition Holy Bible to read a verse before turning in.

     "Verily I say unto thee," the words of Jesus began, "today shalt thou be with me in Paradise."

     I closed and kissed the Bible, then turned on the fan that stood a few feet from the bed. It wasn't a particularly warm night. I just can't seem to relax in total silence.

     I turned off the lamp and lied back on top of the covers, clutching the Good Book to my heart.

     I wondered how long it was going to take. Oddly, I didn't feel myself getting sleepy. I tried not to think about it, though. I knew if I thought too much I'd change my mind.

     I didn't really want to die. I just didn't want to be alive. It wasn't fun being Paul Baker anymore.

     Hazy images of Michelle danced behind my eyes. She smiled and laughed as beautiful as ever with not a care in the world. I had to put her out of my mind. All I really wanted from this life was to tell her I loved her. But that's over now. Maybe it's better she never knew.

     With each passing moment my heart grew weaker. Then I discovered I wasn't breathing, and instinctively gulped for air. Breathing was no longer an involuntary function, I had to make myself do it.

     Soon afterward, I noticed that I could actually hear my heartbeat, like it was in my ear instead of my chest. It kept thumping slower and slower, but wouldn't stop.

     My thoughts became voice-like, as though I was hearing rather than thinking them.

     Suddenly, I heard something that sounded like a million birds in a distant, endless forest, and for a second could swear I saw very faint twinkling lights suspended in midair between myself and the ceiling. I wondered if it was Heaven, or just weary eyes and the hum of the fan distorted by the drugs.

     That's when it started.

     The bird sounds and twinkling lights gradually faded. I felt funny, kind of sea sick. Then realized my soul was slipping from my body.

     I gasped and tensed up, and the slipping stopped.

     Things were beginning to change. I got scared. When I took the pills I thought I would just fall asleep and wake up in the Paradise. But now I understand death doesn't work that way. You don't lose consciousness during the process of dying. What happens is the soul wrests consciousness away from the physical body. The spirit, not the mind, assumes control.

     Still, I couldn't convince myself that it wasn't a dream, that it was actually happening.

     "This is really happening," I spoke out loud to myself. "I'm not falling asleep. I'm dying.... You're dying, Paul."

     It finally hit me. This is eternity!

     For the first time I truly grasped the concept of mortality. Life is a one-shot deal and there's no coming back.

     Then the terrible question came to me: What if I don't make it to Heaven?

     Instantly, my worst fear became reality. I changed my mind. I didn't want to die, at least not on this night, not in this frame of mind.

     I tried to get out of bed, sure that if I could only turn on the light my life would not end. But the pills had already done too much damage. My legs couldn't support me. I fell helplessly to the bare, hardwood floor.

     For a moment I struggled desperately.

     "If only I could stand," I thought to myself in blind darkness. "If only I could stand.... If only..."

     Soon, paralysis overtook me. All I could do was force myself to breathe. My entire body numbed. I couldn't even feel the cool, wood floor against my flesh.

     My heartbeat grew continually fainter, until finally it was no more.

     A brief eternity passed between the end of my heartbeats and my last breath, and within it every feeling, every word, every incident of my entire life replayed itself inside my head.

     In a jolt, the sensations of life enraptured me, only different somehow. Better. Sight, sound, and smell came back sharper than ever. Even touch returned. A painless, pressureless kind of touch that can only be described as airy. And that horrible pill taste was gone.

     In a word, I felt superhuman. I felt perfect, not just physically, but mentally as well. All of my troubles and anxieties and longings and depression and fears were gone.

     I felt like I could do anything. I felt like I was part of everything.... I felt like God.

     That's when I spotted my body lying motionless on the floor, eyes half open, between the bed and the fan. I was dead. I had become a ghost, a free-floating, disembodied spirit completely unattached, untethered to the world around me.

     And I wasn't the least bit afraid. As a matter of fact, I was thrilled beyond words.

     I started rising, right through the ceiling, through the roof, as though they were made of shadow.

     Effortlessly, I soared towards the horizon, ascending little by little every second of the way. The entire city came into view, then the state. The whole continent zipped by in no time at all. The curvature of the Earth soon came into view, with the sun peeking around the edge.

     "Is this really happening?" I marveled. "Is it only a dream?"

     I veered away from the Earth, swooped past the moon and outer planets, and glided through deep space. Galaxies and strange new planets revealed themselves to me. One after another, the secrets and mysteries of the universe unfolded before my eyes.

     But as the journey continued, I grew curious. How long will it last? Where am I going?

     Eventually, all the stars disappeared, leaving me in total blackness, a void of space. Not long after, a dot of blue light appeared. As I stared, it grew larger, and soon took on the appearance of a tunnel. Instantaneously, I found myself inside the tunnel, moving along at a swift pace.

     At the end I emerged into a blue fog. People were there, smiling at me as if I was a long-lost friend. It was just like everything I'd ever read about the afterlife.

     I floated onward, past the people and the fog. As I did, the blueness gradually transformed into a whitish, yellowish color that seemed to pull me towards it.

     The nearer I came to the light, the faster I soared and the whiter and brighter the light shone. Before I knew it, I was utterly engulfed in the whitest of light. I became the light. The light was me. I have never felt so wonderful, so warm, so at peace.

     "It's God," I awed. "I know it is. I know it is."

     With the suddenness of a bolt of lightning, I was shocked awake by the sound of the alarm clock in my bedroom. I was a little dizzy, and that horrible taste once again permeated my mouth.

     It must've been a dream. A glorious, magnificent dream.

     The effects of the drugs still lingering, I turned off the alarm and walked somewhat shakily into the living room.

     Through the small window in the front door I saw the mailman drop the morning delivery into my box, then stroll towards the next driveway.

     Birds were singing, and the sky was as blue as I've ever seen it.

     I went to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. As I held the pot under the running water, I gazed out the window above the sink wondering what went wrong, why I didn't die. I began blaming God for my failure.

     "It was so perfect. Why didn't You let me die, God?" I asked the scenery. "Why must I continue suffering this useless, tormented existence?"

     Then I glanced down at the pot,... and everything changed.

     The seemingly solid pot was not filling. The water pouring from the faucet vanished instantly upon hitting the bottom. Vanished as if some kind of illusion.

     In quiet terror I slowly lowered the vessel into the sink and backed away without turning off the phantom water. I backed into the living room, where I again looked out of the front door window.

     And there he stood at the end of my driveway. The mailman.

     I watched silently as he slid the same handful of envelopes into my mailbox and walked away, only to vanish before my eyes and reappear at my mailbox once more.

     The scene never altered for as long as I stood there. He vanished and reappeared again and again and again, until finally I could watch no more.

     I sat on the sofa, pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms tightly around them. I wanted to cry but couldn't, or somehow felt that I shouldn't.

     This all happened a million years ago, or maybe it was this morning. Time doesn't seem to exist where I am.

     I don't know if this is reality, a dream, or a nightmare, or Heaven or Hell or Purgatory, or even if I'm alive or dead. But I do know that whatever it is, it's going to last forever.

     As I sit here trapped in this damningly ineffectual setting, longing for the end of infinity, something has just occurred to me. Something very sad.... I want my old life back more than anything.

The End