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Member
Join Date: May 2008
Gender: Private
Posts: 12
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Untitled (working title = "Why")
Why?
It was a common question, and he felt it was a good one. He kept wondering as he walked down the wooded path lined with towering oaks and pines, their branches providing shelter for birds above and shade for those below; why was he here, in this frame of mind, in this body, in this park, on this planet, in this galaxy, in this universe?
“Why?” He mumbled as he stared fixedly at the great, white monstrosities floating pleasantly in the blue heavens above, like great white whales. Ahab, he thought, would have his day in that ocean.
He knew that in the great scheme of things, none of the “why’s” really mattered, but wouldn’t it be nice, he thought, to get some answers once in a while? Maybe he didn’t already know because deep down he didn’t want to know. Perhaps the key to unlocking the answers to life was to have a deep, burning desire to know the truth about the universe.
But he didn’t care.
He had trouble caring about anything at all these days. He simply floated through life as though he was a piece of wood drifting in an endless sea.
But he would have to hit a beach sooner or later.
Waking up in the morning had become little more than an obstacle to overcome on a regular basis, becoming more and more difficult with each passing day. He’d stopped going to school. There was nothing he could be taught that he didn’t already know. He spent his days walking through the park, only returning home for a sparse lunch and again at dusk, when the park closed. His nights were dark and lonesome. He spoke to no one, did nothing, and went to sleep as early as possible. Books no longer entertained him. Television was pointless.
And yet he kept floating. Sure, the beach wouldn’t come for many years, but he figured that at some point he would become tired and drown. And yet here he was. Floating.
He’d been down this path many times before. It ended in a rocky precipice, looming over the nearby river rapids, white and tumultuous. He’d often wondered what was down there. Sharp rocks, no doubt, but what else? Answers to questions he had asked all his life? Salvation? Truth?
But that was unreasonable. Truth existed only in fairy tales and fiction, ironically enough. There was no truth in the world. He knew that.
But the river still called him, beckoned him, making him question everything he thought he believed. And so, he kept walking. He visited the river every day; why should today be any different?
He used to have friends, back when he went to school. He had stopped talking to them. At first, several of them were worried; they called him and visited him and told him stories about their days at school. He didn’t care. He knew it was just another fad that would pass by soon enough.
And it did. They stopped coming. They stopped telling him stories. They stopped being there for him.
All but one.
She had stayed with him his entire life. For some bizarre reason, she stayed with him now, too. He rarely saw her anymore, but he knew that she would often visit the park to look for him. More than once he noted the presence of her car in the parking lot as he came and went. Several times she caught him and tried to talk to him. He kept walking, ignoring her. He didn’t know why, but then, he didn’t know why he did anything these days. At first she became sad and dejected and left him alone. But after a while she started to follow him, and talk to him about her day. He rarely responded, but he enjoyed her company and the sound of her voice. He couldn’t quite figure it out, but for some strange reason he felt almost happy when she walked with him.
Today, however, she was not with him. In fact, he’d not seen her in several days. He assumed she was busy with school or work or something. Anyway, he didn’t really care. At least, he didn’t think he cared…
He glanced around him at the trees, the animals, the insects, the stones. His friends; his witnesses. He could hear the roar of the rapids now, as he slowly became closer to the cliffs. As he approached the end of the trail, the shores of his ocean, he noted how much beauty there was in the world, but he just didn’t care.
Nothing mattered. This was all there was.
He stood upon the edge of the precipice, trees looming above, and looked down. The rapids called to him, welcomed him. They promised peace, happiness, answers.
Answers.
He accepted their invitation and took the step, his final step, onward into the abyss. In the distance he could hear a voice. Who’s voice was that?
Hers.
He stumbled, tried to stop, and fell.
It was okay. Things were better this way. He closed his eyes, accepting his fate.
Seconds later he opened them. Horrified, he stared wide-eyed at the rocks in front of him, coming closer and closer. Again, he heard her voice. He tried to call out to her, apologize, say goodbye, anything at all, but his voice had left him. Nothing to do now but wait. The rocks laughed at him, glared at him. At last he could see his stupidity, his foolishness.
He took his final breath, closed his eyes, and thought, for the last time:
Why?
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