Suicide

     He looked down and the whole world swirled. It was way too high for his comfort. But that was the point wasn’t it? He looked at his watch.
    6.30am. Rush hour would begin soon. He wondered if anyone would miss him, and would they wonder where he was. Unlikely. Nobody cared about him anyway, or so he thought. There was always a glimmer of hope. Hope. He chuckled miserably to himself. It was hope that started all this anyway. Hope that something would happen.
     6.35am. He could feel the morning breeze tugging gently at his shirtsleeves, at his hair, at his pants, almost as if daring him to jump. What was he waiting for then? Indeed. His life had been filled with too much waiting. This would be the final wait then. The wait for release.
     6.40am. Enough was enough. The time had come. He closed his eyes and took a step forward. In his mind he felt as though he was flying. But he would not flap his wings. He would not save himself. Instead, he would let himself glide gently down. He could almost see the looks of horror and disgust of the people watching his descent. He could hear the sounds of busy traffic getting louder.
     Other thoughts flashed through his mind. Would there be a grand funeral? Who would attend? Perhaps the class? But would it still matter? He guessed not. He might appear briefly in the papers, in some small discrete section. The school might say a few words. His relatives might shed a few tears. But that was it. He would only be an itsy bitsy ripple in the large sea of people.
     Soon it would be over. He imagined how his bones would be crushed to smithereens, like broken china. Or maybe like some smashed tomato, the blood would splash all over the pavement. He imagined the loud ‘splat’ as he hit the ground. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too painful. Would he scream? Or was he screaming already?
     Then that was it. He hit ground zero. Final destination. There was no fireworks or loud sounds, no kabooms or ker-splats. Nothing. Just silence.
     He opened his eyes.
    6.55pm. He was still at the roof of the building. Somehow he felt calmer. Perhaps some part of him had died with the fall. The bad parts maybe?
    The school bell went off. He cursed. He had to hurry if he was to make it for lessons on time. He picked up his bag and left.

Edit: My earliest completed writing. It's abit awkward and clumsy, but hey, it's young. Haha.

Autumn Leaves

    The leaves were a sea of red and gold interspersed with fading green, rustling gently in the wind as if passing whispers of some secret tale. The sight of tree after tree donning their final colours before death was strangely gratifying, and even eerily beautiful.
    “Pretty, isn’t it?” she murmured.
    He gave a start from his silent reverie and glanced to his side. A young lady was beside him, gazing dreamily into the enrapturing landscape.
    “Yes. It is beautiful,” he replied. “You are?”
    “Sophia,” she whispered, eyes still staring fixedly ahead of her. “Just call me Sophia.” She paused a moment. “Come here often?”
    “Sometimes. To ease the troubled mind,” he smiled. “I’m Sam. Would you like to take a walk?”
    She studied him briefly before nodding. They stepped onto the pavement and took a slow stroll through the park: the light conversation of two strangers walking the same path. She liked the serenity, the subtle beauty in nature’s peace and silence. He wondered about the enchantment of seasons, their unappreciated reflection of life. Somehow, it felt like they had known each other from a not too distant past.
    The sun gradually disappeared into the horizon of trees, turning the sky an orange-golden hue.
    “I’ve got to go. Nice to meet you, Sam.”
    “It was nice meeting you too.” He hesitated. “Will I see you again?”
    “Maybe, maybe not.” She smiled briefly at him, waved, and was gone.
    A little brown leaf glided down and landed a little distance from his feet. Picking it up, he stared at it. It was a lovely evening, a lovely autumn dream.

******

    “Hello.”
    He looked up slowly from his book.
    “Beautiful autumn evening isn’t it?”
    He was glad to see his new friend again. Her familiarity in this small town full of strangers had lingered like a sweet aftertaste.
    “Would you like some hot coffee? Weather’s a bit cool these days.”
    “Sure!” She replied, “But let me buy you, I know just the place, cheap and good. You haven’t been waiting here for me have you?” She teased.
    “Wait for you? Oh no. I just… enjoy passing time here with my silent companions,” he winked, glancing up at the overarching branches. “And I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t be gentlemanly if I let you buy my coffee!”
    She raised an eyebrow, and her lips curled in mock cynicism. “Gentleman? I thought they were relics of the 18th century. Tsk tsk, we shall see.”
    He snapped his book shut, tucked it into his coat pocket, and stood up. “Let’s argue about my conduct later.” In jest, he offered his elbow and asked, “Shall we?”
    She rolled her eyes and laughed.
    As they walked, she continued to jest at his gentlemanly attempts. Granted he was making a laudable effort, but she could not resist poking fun at him. He took it all good-naturedly, adding a few jibes of his own.

    They arrived at a plain looking café at the corner of a quiet street. It had a cosy feel to it; soft conversations greeted them, and the sound of cups clinking. Bowing slightly, he held the glass door open for her. She skipped in without so much as a glance at him, a cheeky grin on her face. He sighed and followed in.
    “Plain black coffee please. What would you like, Sam?” They had chosen a table next to the glass panel looking into the streets.
    “Cappuccino. Thank you.” He replied to the waiter standing at the side.
    They sat in silence for a while, watching the activity outside. An elderly man was walking his dog, a red cocker spaniel, which was wagging its tail wildly and barking at the occasional passer-by. Two girls and a boy were playing with a skipping rope, the boy a reluctant player in what must be a game with his sister and her friend. A mother was trying to hush her crying baby, cooing and tickling him, while the father looked on in exasperation.
    “Strange how it seems so far away isn’t it? Like watching a picture-movie without sound,” she spoke up suddenly.
    “Yes. In a way. People just going about their lives, doing things, oblivious to those around watching them. We’re on this side of the glass,” he said with a slight smile.
    “I wonder who watches us then?” she wandered aloud.
    The waiter arrived with their drinks. She was prepared, and handed him a ten dollar bill lightning-quick, while he fumbled for his wallet.
    “Not so gentleman now, are you?” she flashed him a mischievous smile.
    He gestured in mock exasperation, “Alright, you win.”
    She sipped her coffee and peered at him over the rim of her teacup. “So, er, why cappuccino?”
    “I should be asking you that. Why black coffee? Isn’t it bitter? I just like the frothy taste of cappuccino.”
    Shrugging her shoulders, she replied nonchalantly, “Yeah. Same. Like the taste too. The bitterness reminds me I’m alive?”
    Both kept quiet for a long while. “I like dogs. Do you like dogs?” she volunteered. Talk slowly resumed, and time passed. Night fell, and she had to leave. He escorted her as far as she would allow, to the entrance of an underpass, and she would not let him follow any further. Tempted as he was, he decided against breaching her trust. He watched as her shadow fade into the pass. At the last moment, he shouted, “Tomorrow?”
    “As long as the autumn leaves continue to fall!” her silver laughter-farewell rippling through the tunnel.

******

    They continued to meet, footsteps like days, marked by the falling of leaves. At the same park, where they would read together, or stroll around. Other times it would be a trip down to the little corner street café, watching people go by. Occasionally, he’d bring her down to his favourite bookstore where they would spend hours reading and critiquing books, or playing catch and annoying the attendants.
    At night, after he’d send her home, which was always as far as the underpass, he would call her. Life, loves, dreams, death. Or even just the silent presence of two friends on either end of the line: a comforting thought that gave strength for the next day.
    “Amazing, isn’t it? Us being friends?” she had asked once.
    “Yes it is,” he had replied. “Maybe sometimes, things are that simple.”

    Some days when she could not come, he’d sit in the park and look at the surrounding trees. The leaves were all red and gold now, and more had started falling. Some of the trees were half bare already. There was a red-golden carpet spread across the park that gave a crisp crunching sound wherever he stepped. He’d watch leaf after leaf make its descent, a slow, swirling motion, or a gentle pendulum sway downward. Life seemed cheerier now, despite the impending winter. No chill could touch him while his heart remained warm.
    There was growing talk around the little town. People would point at them and whisper about the two lovers who met at the park bench. They’d receive knowing looks and warm smiles from passer-bys. The café knew their order and always served the bill to the young gentleman. The bookstore attendant shook his head with a sigh of ‘Lovebirds’, and closed an eye to their activities. Friends as they were, neither minded the treatment they received, though they did try unsuccessfully to dispel such notions. After all, they only hung out together, and talked. One little thing tugged at him from the back of his mind though: Would things stay the same forever? He was reminded of the falling autumn leaves. There was also another feeling he could not exactly put a finger to; his thoughts were clouded by a sea of red and gold . . .

******

    Late November. The annual Christmas carnival had arrived in town earlier this year, and she agreed to go with him. It was huge, it was noisy, it was grand. The carnival typically brought much excitement, as it was the closest thing to an amusement park for miles around.
    There was a long queue before they finally managed to get in. As they stepped through the front entrance, their senses were assaulted with strong aromas of hotdogs, toffee apples, loud screams from the roller coasters, and bright, multicoloured tents. Children were running around with ice creams in their hands, and balloons tied to the other, while helpless parents chased them in frantic circles. Teenagers swarmed the tents, some engaged in stall games, others taking breathers from the ‘excitement’. She hooked her arm around his and pointed to a clown giving off helium balloons.

    Two rides on a roller coaster and one visit to the hall of mirrors later, they stumbled out of the house of horrors clinging on to each other in peals of laughter. He made a face at her and she burst out in guffaws again.
    “Oh stop it. It was really funny in there. They didn’t think they could scare us with those rubber puppets did they?” she said between giggles.
    “Well, these things are for kids you know,” he replied breathlessly.
    “That makes us big babies then,” she pouted in the cutest baby face she could muster and fell down, red with laughter.
    “If you continue like that, they’ll really believe we are and pack us home to mommy and daddy you know. Get up now,” he hauled her to her feet with a broad smile.
    They headed towards the games stall, arm-in-arm, still trying to stifle their mirth.
    “A prize for you?” he asked with a wink, and proceeded to participate in one of the stalls. With surprising accuracy that startled even himself, he knocked down all five bottles with his three balls. The stall keeper gave a whistle of amazement.
    “Something for your lady, eh, my boy?” the keeper chuckled good-naturedly. “I’ve got just the right thing.”
Going behind his stall, the keeper rummaged his stores for a while before producing a large, life-size teddy bear with a heart across the chest.
    “There, that should get her squealing and throwing kisses at you. Now move on my boy, or I’ll be a poor man if you stay another round.”
    “But she’s not my – ” he protested.
    The keeper patted him on his shoulder with a knowing wink, “Yes, yes, my lad,” and whispered conspiratorially, “No need to be shy about it!” He waved good-bye in dismissal.
    Having no choice but to receive the ridiculously over-sized bear, he walked back to her with a wry smile. But before he could even open his mouth, she had already screamed in surprise.
    “OH-MY-GOD! Sam! How in the world did you get that?”
    “It was nothing, just a flick of the hand, some amazing display of deft dexterity and acute aiming, nothing short of miraculous. Otherwise, it was simple, really,” he waved a hand in a vague gesture of dismissal.
    “Just pass that thing over” she yelped in delight.
    “Hmm. Did I say it was for you?” he asked playfully.
    “S-A-M!” she yelled, with hands on her hips. “Either you hand it over this instance, or I’m leaving!”
    “Alright, alright, I won it and I don’t get to keep it?” he said, feigning dejection.
    “Thank you!” she hugged the bear in elation, and after a moment’s consideration, gave him a quick hug as well, before resuming her relationship with the huge bear.
    He watched her awhile, and after some contemplation, said, “Sophia . . .”
    She looked at him.
    He hesitated.
    “Shh…” she said softly and smiled. “I know.”
    The rustling of leaves soared to a deafening crescendo in his head, and he finally understood. When he looked into her eyes, all became silent once more.

******

    Two months had passed since the day they first met. He sat on the same bench she had talked to him once before. Above him, a last golden leaf clung onto the end of a frail branch. She did not come today. Watching the bare trees around him, and the red-golden carpet spread as far as the eye could see, he thought back on what had passed. Somehow, he knew she would not be here tomorrow, or the day after.
    “As long as the leaves continue to fall.” He remembered the words she said from a seemingly distant past. The vision blurred in his eyes. Must be the damned dust.
    Looking up, he saw the last leaf let go. It floated down slowly, taking its time to descent, falling to a place beyond his eye.
    He felt her return: laughter, scent, words, her gentle features. Every golden drop of their time together flashed before his eyes. Her autumn. He chuckled wryly.
    Taking a deep breath, he cast a final glance at the barren trees, and slowly made his way out of the park.
    A new autumn would return next year, and the leaves would fall again. Such was the cycle of life. Death and rebirth. There was no escape from it. He would be here then - having lived the seasons between, waiting for his season to come. Like he once did. And perhaps, just perhaps, what had died before would be reborn: a lovely autumn dream; a reverie of what could have been.
    The first snowflake fell. Winter had arrived.

THE END

Edit: It's the first long piece I've completed. Maybe I'll post some of my older incomplete writings here next time. This one's still a bit awkward, even after Megan's edit. I think it's because it's meant to be longer. The original was longer, and even then, it still had the feel of missing something. Certain ideas couldn't be built sufficiently on, and the elements and messages are a bit muddled. I think the story could use a bit more developing. But since I seldom improve my works after I'm done, partly coz I'm too lazy anyway, well, too bad. Haha. It's not a love story. I must emphasize that. The biggest regret that I wish I could have made clearer. Then again, that's exactly the nature of the story, a friendship that treads the fine line of friends and lovers. They could have been best pals, or lovers, who knows? It's a pity it had to end like that. Hehe... She didn't die by the way, please have a little more imagination. She simply disappeared. Things like that happen in life you know? Gee. Think I shall not write an analysis of my own story la. Rather dumb. Haha.