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Member
Join Date: Nov 2003
Location: Kansas City
Posts: 18
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My short story: Falling
Here is my short story that I wrote for my creative writing class. From reading through other's work here, I found a similar story, An End To It All. Please believe me when I tell you that this story was completed long before I knew this place existed. This idea came to me years ago, but it wasn't until my course this semester that I finally put it into words. I feel that my story brings different things to this subject than An End To It All does, through its perspective and other aspects.
I hope you enjoy it, and/or give me some feedback on it.
The story is 2,981 words. A bit more than is suggested for the Short Story forum, but this was my assignment, and I think of this as a short story.
Falling
“And the Lord said unto his children…”
I sat there on the dusty rear pew of my childhood church, Queen of the Holy Trinity, hearing but not listening to the sermon amongst the few dozen parishioners. Instead I focused on the candles and stained glass.
“Blessed are ye who accept the Lord…”
The minister, Lewis, was the same as I remembered, still as passionate and thoughtful, but his hair was graying a bit and he must have been pushing 45. It didn’t matter anymore. I wasn’t there for any of the advertised services. I just needed a tall building.
“And ye shall be saved…”
- - - -
After the service I made my way quickly to the front of the chapel, with my head down, past the bright stained glass images of the resurrection and people in their nice clothes going the other way. I was spotted just before I could slip past the curtains and into the back rooms.
“Jeremy,” Lewis called. I swear that no matter how long I’d stayed away, that man could pick me out of a crowd.
I was spared explanation when others came to him, commenting on the sermon, and took his attention from me long enough to creep away.
I had to tread lightly with my old boots on the metal stairs to avoid raising the janitor’s curiosity. But the old man was a little hard of hearing and it was simple enough to make my way up through the darkness to the ladder and roof hatch. It wasn’t even locked.
I must admit, doubt did come to me before I opened the hatch, but it was too late to back down. I had come with resolve, and meant to keep it. I was going to jump.
- - - -
I think it must have been a cool Sunday morning, being mid April, and now I picture it with a clear sky and bright white clouds, but I couldn’t say for certain because my eyes were fixed on the ground. The hatch opened up near the base of the slanted roof and I remember seeing the metal loop for attaching a safety rope and the gutter full of leaves. The roof seemed amazingly steep, but the gray shingles were rough and grainy, and I was able to climb easily to the peak, where the chill wind hit me, but I didn’t flinch.
Looking around, I could see the entire parking lot, the playground, all the surrounding houses, and the cross at the opposite peak of the roof, above the front door. That’s where I was going to jump from, and standing up, arms straight out from my shoulders, I walked, and kept my eyes fixed on the stone cross.
Reaching it, I casually put my hand on the top. It was cold, but very smooth, and I held on as I swung myself around to the front, turning and grabbing each side behind me. I looked down and faced the drop. It must have been 50 or 60 feet down to the front stairs and people were still meandering out. I watched them, and then became lost in thinking what it might be like, to be free, or at least gone. I was interrupted by a scream.
- - - -
When I looked down there was a woman there, staring and really letting go. She must have been in the choir. I just looked at her until she ran out of breath and stopped. Her face didn’t change, just the noise. Her yelling also drew out Lewis and some others, one of whom ran straight back inside.
“Dear Lord! Jeremy, what are you doing?” Lewis was calling up to me, stepping back a bit. “That’s very dangerous.” I could hear him very well. His sermon voice carried.
I had to yell a little, but so what? I wasn’t worried about losing my voice. “It would only be dangerous if I didn’t mean to be here. This won’t be an accident.”
Lewis’ face went blank. I was a little taken aback too, hearing myself; I hadn't realized I’d have an audience.
“I… I understand that things can seem bad, son… Things can seem hopeless, but…,” Lewis said.
“But nothing,” I cut him off. “Things are hopeless. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and this is what I’m doing. I’m going to die here today. Do you think you can talk me down, or is it just that you need to understand, not that you ever really could. I could explain it to you at great length. I know all about it, it’s all I think about.”
“You’re upset, Jeremy. Come down and we can talk about this.”
“I’m not upset. I’m not upset at all. Today I feel pretty good, elated in fact. I’m excited by the fact that there won’t be a tomorrow. I can feel my mood lifting the more I think about it. That’s why I picked today, because I feel so good.”
“Jeremy, that doesn’t make any sense, if you’d…”
“It does make sense, it does. Just think about it with me here. If I feel like dying most of the time, and part of the time I’m unable to contain the joy that’s inside of me, the utter and complete happiness, then tell me, when should I choose to die? Why should I wait for things to get bad again? I don’t ever want to feel that way again. I would rather just let go, fall, and be done. I would still be happy, knowing that I wouldn’t have to live with that fear any longer. I do fear it you know, I fear having to go into that depression again. I fear having to feel so horrible that tomorrow is the worst thing that can happen to me, aside from that very moment.”
“Jeremy, you get depressed, it happens and it’s not your fault, but you can get help. Jumping off of the church is not the way to go. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Just come back down the stairs and we can discuss this. If you jump now, you may never have that chance again.” Lewis spoke and looked back towards the door, the first time he had taken his eyes off of me. I watched him, and he nodded at somebody I couldn’t see.
“Are we done talking then, Lewis?”
“No! No, we’re not Jeremy, we’re not. You can get help. Just go back down so we can talk about this where you’re safe.”
“If you want to talk we can talk from here. I’m only not jumping yet because I’m in a good mood, and if I’m going to have a final conversation then it should at least be a good one. Stop trying to pass the time and say something meaningful.”
“I…,” his lips kept moving but nothing I could hear came out.
“Haven’t you been in a situation like this before, Lewis? I haven’t, and if I were in your spot I’d be loaded with questions.”
“You’ve come to God’s house to die,” it seemed Lewis had found some resolve, “and you don’t seem to see that God is the reason you were given life. All you have was by the grace of God. I know your parents, and they’re good people, they love you. Though it’s been many years, most of these people know you and care about you. You have school, friends, a life, and you’re prepared to throw that away? I’m here for you, and I care about you, Jeremy. None of what you say you’re feeling is as bad as it seems.”
“No,” I conceded, “it’s actually a lot worse than that because it’s not like that all the time. I have to feel so incredibly happy I could already be in heaven. I get that hope that it may all be over, that I might finally be free, and every time, every single time, that hope is crushed. Can you even imagine how it feels? Sure, I’ve got friends, I’ve got family, I’ve got responsibility, and a home that’s good enough, food, and everything else I need. The thing is, Lewis, I can’t seem to find it in me to care.”
I could feel that darkness inside me coming to the surface. It was familiar enough for me to follow it’s every move through my mind, creeping in like cold water over tile.
I went on, “I can’t seem to feel much of anything. None of these big important things in life matter, none of them. I don’t know what it is in me, but I can’t feel like that, like a normal person. From watching all the people around me I can see how to act, and I know how to put on a show so people think I’m like them. But there’s nothing there, nothing at all behind the masks and the curtains.” I could feel the tears coming. “It’s like I’m already dead inside.”
“Jeremy… there’s help. You can get treated for your depression. You’re not alone, do you know that? There are thousands of others who feel like you do.”
“No, I’m not getting help. There is no help. All that junk in the psychology books is crap. They make these broad generalizations and say they know people. They don’t know people. How can anybody know me more than I know myself, and by extension, how can anybody help me more than I can help myself? I’ve tried for years, over a decade, and I can’t seem to make any progress. I have a breakthrough and think I’m through with the depression and think I’ve gotten it beat, but it always comes back. It’s a part of me and the only part that I can’t seem to change. I write and talk and think continuously. My mind will not shut up, and I can’t ignore it.” I was crying openly.
Lewis started to look more concerned than he had to that point, and I could faintly hear sirens in the distance. Lewis could hear them too, and I could see him relax at the thought of help, and release, being on the way. Out of curiosity I looked back, and just as I did the hatch dropped shut. The man who had run back inside had been watching me, and I found it fairly funny.
“I can’t let you do this Jeremy. You’ve got to tell me more. I don’t think you can say that a professional can’t help if you haven’t been to see one yet. How do you know it won’t help?” I wondered if Lewis was just stalling, or if he really cared.
“I’m afraid they’re going to tell me I’m broken, that something is really genuinely wrong with me and that I have to go away. They’ll just medicate me and I can’t stand the thought of my emotions, no matter how good or bad, being taken from me. I can’t stand the thought of being dulled like that. I wouldn’t be a real person.”
“Jeremy, how can you assume it will be that way?”
The sirens were growing louder, closer.
“Jeremy,” Lewis called louder.
I scanned the surrounding streets, but couldn’t see any of the emergency vehicles yet. I knew I’d better hurry.
“Lewis.”
“Yes, Jeremy?”
“You said that God gave me this life?”
“Yes, He did, He loves you very much. We all care about you.”
“If this life is what He gave me, then I don’t want it. He can have it back.”
I let go and jumped.
- - - -
What happened in the next few seconds isn’t all that clear to me, I think understandably so, but I still have a sense of it. If I concentrate and try to relive it, I recall uncurling my arms, sore from hanging on, and rising upwards as I shoved off. My legs were a bit stiff, but carried me up and clear of the building. I have no real sense of falling, other than the images I’m left with. No rising of the stomach or the feeling of wind. The images that I can still see are just that, still pictures of the fall. I can see a house, a tree, and a blue car. And I can see the people, getting closer with each image. But I see nothing as clearly as I see Lewis, right below me. I hear nothing at all. For all I could tell he was saying something. In each image I see of him his mouth is contorted in speech. His hands are up, and his eyes, like everyone’s, are fixed on me. His white robe, his brown hair, and his dark eyes all stand out clearly. It was his eyes that buried themselves more deeply in my memory. They showed no fear at all. His eyes were strong, brave, and loving. It truly struck me, in that frozen moment, that Lewis cared more deeply about my life than I did. I just knew that, looking him in the eyes as I came down.
I couldn’t bear it. All the emotions that I was trying to evade came to me at once. Without time for conscious thought, they came fast enough that the power of it cracked something in my mind. Emotional pain, hopelessness, apathy, and fear came crashing into, and then through, me. They were replaced by hope. The hope that things could get better, that I could conquer these inner troubles and be free of them to lead a normal life. I had visions of what it would be like, to no longer have all my happiness overshadowed by the constant threat of a depression that always seemed deeper than the last. What it would be like, to be free of knowing I would have to feel like that again. I wanted to start over. I wanted to be able to try getting help, to see if anything could be done. I felt a great sadness at the idea that I would be letting so many people down, Lewis most of all. I could see how much he cared.
Then fear came back, but an honest fear. It came with the realization of what I had done. I had just leapt from a building to end my life. It was the end of hope, and the end of potential. There would be no starting over, no more chances to make things right. I had seen to that with the permanent solution Lewis mentioned. My fear was accented by Lewis’ eyes, which had none, and my fear grew until the impact.
- - - -
I don’t remember feeling anything, but it must have been horrible for those people to see. I don’t know if I could have looked away in that situation, coming upon them so quickly and ending so suddenly. Maybe they didn’t think I’d really do it. I don’t know that I would have if I had given it all the thought I’d claimed. Part of my courage had been in self-sustained ignorance of what I was really doing up there.
They tell me I was unconscious for just over two days, and that I was luckier than I knew for being here at all. I had a concussion, multiple skull fractures, plus broken bones in both arms, and I had cracked most of my ribs and 6 toes. My spine had buckled, and it had just barely held strong enough to keep from paralyzing me. They had to reset my jaw into socket. They told me all of these things that they did while I was out, and then they told me the only reason they had anything to save. Lewis.
I would have come down on the steps, but Lewis got in the way. I was told that he didn’t try to catch me, so much as break my fall. And he did it out of love. He barely knew me, but he cared enough about my life and what I was going through that he put himself under me as I fell, hoping to maybe save my life by risking his. It was that caring that made me so fearful and sorry for what I had done. His absolute faith in what he was doing made my pain and reason for jumping pale. It felt almost like the worst thing in the world I could have done to myself or him. It made me want to take it all back more than anything else.
I can’t take it back though. It’s done. All I can do now is get better and make whatever meager amends I can. I can get help. I can get better. My will is new and strong. The weakness and cowardice I showed by jumping, by running from my problems, has become just as powerful a force in the other direction.
Lewis is still unconscious. Landing on him and crashing him into the stairs almost killed him as well. The way I crushed him across the stairs hit his back and his head in six places. They don’t know if he’ll ever walk again, and won’t know until, or if, he wakes up. His injuries, and possibly mine, would have been fatal if the ambulance hadn’t arrived a few seconds after I landed. The man who had called the police when I was spotted had saved both of our lives. Lewis is a strong man, and his faith is powerful. It was more than powerful enough to educate me more with a single look and in one and a half seconds than I had learned about myself in fifteen years of self awareness. He’ll make it. I know he will. And maybe then I can begin to earn his forgiveness.
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