64.) “Do you trust me?”

[Flash Fiction] 150 Words or less ~ Hanging off the edge of a building and you’re starting to slip.

—————————————————————————————————-

A young woman stood at the edge of her balcony one night when she heard her father coming upstairs.

“The day has finally come, my princess! By the end of the night you will be married to the prince of Arabia! Can you imagine? Our family will want for nothing! Allah be prai-“

The father was greeted by silence. Across from him, the doorway to the balcony was open, howling wind blowing the curtains into the empty room.

“Jasmine?” As he ran out to the empty balcony, she was nowhere to be found.

Standing on a narrow ledge around the corner, Jasmine’s heart raced. Suddenly her foot slipped, and she found herself hanging over the edge. Her hand slipping, she knew it was only a matter of time.

As she accepted her fate, a young man appeared, suspended in midair.

“Do you trust me? I can show you the world.”

63.) The Doctor

[Writing Prompt] A serial killer becomes a licensed psychologist and kills his victims by slowly getting them to consider suicide.

—————————————————————————————————-

"Bruce? Dr. Kuhr will see you now. Bruce?"

"Hm? Oh, I’m sorry, I must have drifted off. Thank you."

Absentmindedly, Bruce walked into the office. When he looked up, he was perplexed. Rather than the stereotypical psychologist’s office- bookcases lining the walls, old-fashioned mahogany furniture scattered throughout the room, a couch for patients to lie down on, instead Bruce walked into an unsettling space.

The smell was the first thing that hit him. A faint herbal scent, not particularly pleasant nor displeasing, but it invited you into the room to see more. However, there wasn’t much more to see. The walls were bare, void of any color, just an unnervingly pure white. There was no furniture, except for two curved white chairs facing each other in the center of the room. No lights, save for one dimly lit fluorescent bulb hanging in between the two chairs. The rest of the room was covered in darkness. And there, on the other side of the room, was but one window, where the doctor stood, looking out as the rain poured down on the city.

"I’m sorry, is.. is this the right room?"

His back turned to the door and his arms folded across his chest, the doctor didn’t move. As he turned to go back, Bruce had already begun to regret this visit.

"I must have wandered into the wrong room, I’m looking for Dr. Kuhr’s office. I’ll just go back.. I’m sorry for disturbing y-"

"Oh no, don’t you worry Bruce. As a matter of fact, you’re right where you belong."

Confused, Bruce turned back around only to find that instead of standing by the window, he found the doctor sitting in one of the seats, just outside the light.

"You don’t mind if I call you Bruce, do you? Somehow I just have this feeling, as if we’ve met before."

"No, I suppose not.. But I don’t believe we have, doctor."

"Oh, well that’s quite alright. I believe we’ll get to know each other quite well today. Now why don’t you have a seat?"

The doctor gestured to the seat in front of him, and despite the growing uneasiness, Bruce felt compelled to oblige.

The chair was considerably more comfortable than Bruce had expected, and as he sank into it he began to relax, something he hadn’t been able to do in years.

"Let’s get started, shall we? Tell me Bruce, what’s been on your mind?"

"Well doctor, throughout my whole life, I’ve just felt.. under-appreciated. I’m 52 now, and I’ve spent my entire career in law enforcement. Every night I show up to work, and sometimes there are good nights, but sometimes there are bad ones.."

"I take it there’s a story there, hm?"

"Yes, actually.. I recently lost my partner.. He was so young. I had trained him for years by myself, and he was beginning to grow into the man I knew he would eventually become. He was one of the only people who understood exactly what I’ve gone through for this city, all the sacrifices I’ve made. His name was Jason. He wasn’t just my partner.. He was my best friend."

The tears began to fall as Bruce recounted the story.

"Last week, we were just doing our normal rounds through the city and we got into a bit of a scuffle.. He wanted to take point that night, but I didn’t think he was ready. I could tell he was angry with me, but I didn’t expect him to go off on his own. When I finally tracked him down, it was too late.. He had walked into a trap. He died in my arms.."

"I’m very sorry to hear that, Bruce.. The loss of a loved one is one of the hardest things to cope with. I can tell he meant a great deal to you, and no amount of happiness will ever be able to replace what he provided, no matter how hard you try.."

"I.. I suppose you’re right," Bruce said.

Looking up through his tears, he found the doctor sitting up, leaning toward him. Sitting at the edge of the light for the first time, Bruce could just barely make out the doctor’s face. His skin was a pale white, almost as if to match the walls around him. His face was lined with wrinkles, but rather than wrinkles of old age, the doctor had the kind of wrinkles one gets from smiling and laughing all throughout his life.

"How odd," Bruce thought.

But it was the doctor’s eyes that struck him the most. Behind a pair of subtle glasses, the doctor had the kind of eyes that pierce through to your soul. Wide open, they stared intently at Bruce and slowly the uneasiness came drifting back. The doctor rose, his eyes transfixed on Bruce. As he began to speak, Bruce just barely noticed his lips curl faintly into a smile.

"Let’s try a relaxing exercise, shall we? I want you to close your eyes. I’m going to turn this light off, and I want you to focus only on the rain outside and the sound of my voice."

Unsure of what to do, Bruce hesitated.

"What’s the matter, old friend? Don’t you trust me?"

Bruce took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The light bulb clicked, and all he could see behind his closed eyes was darkness.

Startled by a pair of cold hands massaging his shoulders, Bruce heard the doctor’s voice behind him.

"There now, that’s much better.. I want you to focus on the rain. Just relax.."

Raindrops drilled against the window. It had been pouring for the past week, but never this hard. Suddenly the roar of thunder echoed through the city and a flash of lightning lit up the skyline.

"Under-appreciated and dealing with a loss, hm? That’s quite a bit to have on your plate there, Bruce."

The doctor’s words became slow and deliberate.

"Tell me, how bad has it gotten?"

"Well doctor-"

"Come now, Bruce. We don’t have to use such trivial formalities. We’re old friends, remember? Call me Josef.. Joe for short."

"Alright Joe.. well, it’s been pretty bad lately. Sometimes, I just feel so alone.. Every now and then my mind goes back to.. to just ending it all."

"Is that so? Then let me tell you Bruce, you’re not alone."

"What do you mean, doctor?"

"Well once in a while, I think about it too.. How easy it would be to just end it all, no? To just stop all the pain, once and for all. So tempting, isn’t it?"

"Ye- yes, I guess it is.."

"And just think about all the people that would finally learn to appreciate you once you’re gone! You would finally get the recognition that you deserve, don’t you think?"

"D- doctor, what are you saying?"

A cold sweat broke on Bruce’s forehead as the tension in the air grew. Something felt very awry about this visit.

"Shhh, just relax, Bruce.. I want you to trust me.. I’m going to give you something that will ease all the pain. I want you to open your hand."

Reluctantly, Bruce opened it.

He felt the doctor place a cold, metal object in his hand.

"What is this..?"

"I think you know what it is, Bruce."

It had a handle that fit perfectly into his grasp. It felt faintly familiar..

Bruce’s stomach churned as he realized what it was.

And judging by its weight, Bruce could tell it was loaded.

"D- doctor, what are you doing?"

"I want you to feel how easy it would be, Bruce.."

The doctor’s voice wasn’t behind him anymore. Bruce could hear him walking slowly walking around his chair as he spoke.

"I want you to know that you can do it."

Bruce’s collar was drenched. He knew this wasn’t what he came for, but at the same time, the doctor wasn’t wrong..

By now, he felt the doctor standing right in front of him.

"I want you to put the gun to your head, Bruce."

Something about his voice was so compelling, so commanding.

Bruce lifted the gun to his head.

"Are you ready, Bruce?"

"I- I’m ready.. Yes. I’m ready."

"Good, good. I think you know what you need to do. I have but one question left for you, old friend."

Bruce felt the doctor’s face just inches away from him, his breath as slow and deliberate as his words.

"Look at me while I ask you, Bat."

Suddenly, the light flickered on and the doctor took Bruce’s face into his cold, petrifying hands.

Bruce’s eyes jutted open to finally see the doctor for who he really was. Jagged eyes locked onto his, mouth agape with a terrifying smile across his entire face.

"WHY SO SERIOUS!?"

Bang.

62.) “Love isn’t patient, love isn’t kind.”

Love isn’t patient, love isn’t kind. Love does envy, love does boast, and love is proud. Love isn’t always what you think it is.

It’s patient, but not patient enough to wait til we leave your parents’ house to kiss you. Love is stealing a kiss from your lips when your parents aren’t looking.

It’s kind, but not kind enough to resist teasing you about how clumsy you are, because it’s just so goddamn cute. Love is telling you to watch out for that table, after you’ve already run into it.

Love tries not to envy, but you have no idea how hard it is not to envy the stuffed animal I won you at the fair, because it gets to fall asleep in your arms every night.

Love doesn’t boast, except for every time I mention your name in passing, because then people know that there’s not a person in the world that can make me happier than when I see you smile.

Love isn’t proud, but I can’t say that I’m not proud of the person you were when we first met and the person you are today, first for giving me a chance and second for sticking with me ever since. I’ve watched you grow into the person you’ve always dreamed to become, and there’s no one more proud of you for that than I am today.

Love isn’t patient, love isn’t kind.

But love is us.

And I love you for it.

61.) November Rain

The rain pours down from outside my window. No sunrise today, no birds singing—just rain.

I lay here in bed, and all I can hear is the soft pitter patter of the raindrops on my window. How can something so gentle be so loud? It’s a miracle, really. It’s the only thing that keeps me from hearing the aching beating of my own heart.

It’s been like this for months now, the rain. It’s just about the only thing I can count on these days, ever since you left.

"I’m just gonna step out for a bit with a friend, okay? I’ll see you tonight."

But I didn’t see you that night.
I haven’t seen you since.

And now every morning I hope to wake up from this nightmare and see you there beside me.

   

Because nothing

                            could ever

                                              replace

                                                           the           of 

                                                                 touch     your skin

                                                           the             of 

                                                                 warmth     your smile

                                                           the         in 

                                                                 love     your lips.

   

                   I miss you.

            

60.) Nothing.

He looked up at me in a way I’d never seen before, and with the faintest voice he asked, ”What do you do when there’s nothing left?”

Looking out past the ridge, the sun was perfectly poised to set. The sky was painted in perfect hues of pink, orange, violet. The plants and trees in the valley below swayed in the gentle breeze, as if to take one last breath, absorbing what rays they could before the darkness engulfed them.

"What do you do when you’ve lived your whole life in preparation for one moment, and then in the next moment it was all gone? What do you do when everything you’ve ever worked for, everything you’ve ever dreamed of slips away right in front of you? How would you feel if you watched your whole life fall to pieces around you, and you knew there wasn’t a goddamn thing you could do about it?"

I stood there in silence. I didn’t know what to tell him.

When I looked in his eyes, it was as if I was staring straight through to his soul. I’ll never forget what I saw that day. I looked at him, and all I saw was nothing. It was beyond anything I could ever even begin to comprehend. Inside his mind, his heart, his soul, there was nothing. All I saw that day was the shell of the man I once knew. This was a shell that grew larger and larger over the course of his life, accommodating to the growth of his hopes and dreams. Once the epitome of ambition and optimism, now filled with nothingness, emptiness and the faint hint of despair.

He walked over to the edge of the balcony, looked out toward the horizon, and watched as the sun gently faded away. Then he looked up at me in a way I’d never seen before, and with the faintest voice he asked, ”What do you do when there’s nothing left?”

"Nothing, love," I said, tears running down my face. "You’ve done more than enough. I’m so sorry.."

And then I pulled the trigger.

Day 3.

restless

The alarm rings. 6:40. You shut it off. You rise. You shower. You dress. You leave. The morning goes by in a blur. You can’t remember what you had for breakfast, but it was probably a blueberry muffin and a caramel machiatto, the same thing you order every morning on your way to work. Someone paid for your order this morning, and for a brief moment you pondered why someone would do such a thing. But you put it in the back of your mind as there were more important things to think about, like the Johnson-Maxwell merger you’ve been working on for the past month. You put this at the forefront of your mind and go about your way to work.

The walk is lonely. The city is empty, devoid of what used to be called civil society. After a massive technological revolution, a global genocide took place. Human life was almost completely wiped out at this point, shortly replaced by robots and zombies. Big corporations dominate the world, controlling the robots and zombies that fill the streets, clad in Armani suits and Google glasses, communicating only via small, handheld metal boxes. They were everywhere, mindlessly making their way to their own destinations without cognizance or concern for the beings around them. You push past them and they do the same, keeping the city in a constant state of flux. Such is the flow of the new age.

In such a barren city, few groups of humans remain, scattered far and wide. You walk past a small community of them, just under an overpass on the way to work. They are deemed outcasts, freaks for their backward thinking, as they have shunned the religion that is technology. Instead they go about their lives preaching minimalism and patience, words typically spoken in a hushed tone if only to avoid association with such primitive beings. As you hurry along your way, one of the women calls out to you, asking why you rush past them every day without so much as to acknowledge their existence. I’m late for work, you say, only to be met by her spewing some nonsense about stopping to smell roses, as if anyone has the time to do such a pointless and trivial thing.

The day goes by and you find yourself back at your desk, studying the profit and loss margins from last quarter. Time drags by as you listen to the constant ticking of the clock on the wall behind you, a glaring contrast to the feverish clicking of the mouse and keyboard, instruments of monotony you’re forced to listen to at work every day for hours on end. You begin to wonder what you’re really doing there, why you continue to show up and whether or not you really have it better than that vermin under the overpass. You have to, right? Of course you do. But then again… You think about the zombies that flood the streets, how they’re really not that different from you at all. You all have the same routine, every day, every week, every year until you die. You begin to wonder how things have come to be this way, so monotonous, so repetitive. How did this become the norm, an acceptable way to live? The definition of insanity itself is doing the same thing over and over and over again and expecting different results. You start to contemplate what it must be like to live without technology, without the electrical chains that bind you. Wherever you go, no matter where you are, you must have access to a wall outlet and free wifi. You think about the freedom that comes with not having to worry about any of that. It must be nice. But that’s nonsense. How would you be able to survive otherwise, right? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, they say. But what if the hand that feeds and the hand that strangles are one in the same?

You decide not to give it any more thought, as that kind of thinking is heresy around here. Instead you decide to speculate on why someone would pay for another person’s order and why anyone would stop what they were doing just to smell roses, but that’s when it clicks. The woman that called out to you under the overpass is the same woman that was in front of you in line to get breakfast this morning. But why would she do such an absurd thing? Doesn’t she need the money, especially given her social status? You question why anyone could possibly be so.. so.. altruistic. The very word itself feels ancient to you, as if no one has ever had any reason to use the word in years. But now you’re intrigued. You’re honestly curious about it, so you decide that after work today, you’re going to find out why someone would act so foolishly. You’re going to go back to the overpass and find her so you can ask her yourse-

"Smith! Snap out of it and get back to work!"

Suddenly your supervisor is standing over your shoulder, yelling in your ear.

"Yes sir! I’m sorry, I must have zoned out for a second there," you say as he shakes his head and walks away.

The problem is, now you can’t remember why you zoned out in the first place. You vaguely remember that it was something strange and unique, but you can’t remember how or why. Oh well, you think to yourself. If I can’t even remember what it was, it couldn’t have been that important, right?

Right. You have work to do anyway.

I’m not usually the type to look back on pictures and get all sentimental, but this trip was different. Looking at all these pictures reminds me of different things, and I think it’s important for you to know.

The first picture reminds me that I always smile the biggest because of you. You make me smile in more ways than you can imagine, even when you’re not around (like right now).

The second picture reminds me that I love trying new things, but especially with you. It makes me feel blessed to be able to share all these new opportunities and experiences with the person that means the most to me, and also you’re the cutest when you freak out in excitement.

The third picture reminds me that you make me laugh the most, every time I’m with you. I know you’re probably mad at me for posting a slightly embarrassing picture of you, but let’s be honest, it could have been a lot worse. Also you’re cute when you’re mad like that.

The fourth picture reminds me that I can be myself around you, whether it be making silly faces or using my minion voice or so much more. With you, I’m comfortable in my own skin, and I’m glad you’re the only person in the world that gets to see me at my purest state.

And the last picture is my favorite one. It reminds me that the sun always shines brightest when I’m with you. It warms my heart to know that you’re the one I fell in love with, you’re the one that’s watched me grow from the person I once was to the person I am today, and you’re the one that’s loved me unconditionally from day one. You’re the best, babe. I love you. Happy 29th monthaversary. We’ve got a lifetime to go. <3

59.) A Bridge to Your Soul

There’s 7 billion people in the world. Thats crazy. That’s 7,000,000,000 and each one of us is only 1. Can you even fathom that? That’s like if we were at a beach, and there’s 7 billion grains of sand on that beach and each of us is one individual grain. That’s insane.

I started thinking about this a few semesters ago when I had long breaks in between classes and sometimes I would just sit in the shade in the far corner of the parking lot, facing the street. It always amazed me that so many cars would drive by, and each and every person in those cars had their own story, led their own life. It’s all I can think about now whenever I see a parking lot or a freeway.

7 billion people are living their own life. 7 billion people are experiencing this strange thing called life, just as I am, except totally different. 7 billion people have conscious thought and I guarantee there’s thousands of you thinking the exact same thoughts I am right now. Isn’t that extraordinary, that two people across the world could be thinking the exact same thing at the exact same time, and they would never know it? It’s magical, really.

I guess I’ve always had a fascination with humans and individual existence. That’s why I’ve always loved making new friends. Over time, friends forge lasting bonds, bridges into each other’s minds. I want to know what drives you, what makes you tick. I want to know what terrifies you, what you can’t even bring yourself to think about. I want to know about the scars on your soul, how you got them and how you live with them each and every day. I want to know you, inside and out, better than you know yourself.

I just wish I could know all 7 billion of you out there. Because by the time I get through all of you, maybe- just maybe, I’ll know myself too.

58.) Raindrops

It’s funny how life works, isn’t it? Every moment, every experience is like a raindrop on your window. Just one among the thousands there now in your memory, on the window, billions more to come in time.

Each unique droplet has undergone its own journey to get there, and yet as it rolls down the window it intertwines itself with others, inevitably forming their very own memory, their very own droplet. Each memory, each experience laces itself with another, and another, and another. And with each drop they absorb along the way, they get bigger. Droplets turn into one big glob, they gain momentum as they roll down the window, faster and Faster and FASTER AND FASTER AND THEN- drip. They get to the bottom and they’re gone. Out of sight, out of mind, as a chapter of your life ends.

Over and over and over again, until there’s only one drop left. One small, final raindrop dripping down ever so slowly as your life comes to an end. And what happens after it’s gone? Well it’s only a matter of time before it rains again, isn’t it? Because that’s all that life is, really. Just raindrops.

Day 2.

accusation


"It’s not always about you, Tom!"

"Yeah, well maybe this time it is!"

"God, you’re so selfish these days! And you wonder why-"

"STOP. You can stop right there, right now. I’m not gonna let you pull this shit again, Jamie. I’m not gonna let you turn the tables and make me feel guilty for something that’s not my fault."

"What are you talking abou-"

"I’m talking about YOU, Jamie. Have you ever once stopped to think about maybe why I’ve been so selfish lately? It’s because it’s always about you. You’re always right. This is how it happens every time. Every time we get into a fight, you always find some way to pin the blame on me. You never once think about how I feel, what my opinion is. You don’t even want to talk things through anymore. You just find the easiest way to put it all on me and then you expect me to fix it. But that’s not how it works, babe. A relationship’s a two-way street. I don’t know when and why it happened, but one of these days you just stopped trying. And as much as I want to fix it, there’s only so much I can do alone. You gotta be able to meet me halfway, or this thing isn’t gonna work out for much longer."

"Oh my god.. I.. I didn’t even realize. I’m so sorry.."

"Shh, it’s okay.. Part of it is my fault for not speaking up sooner, but it’s just hard to talk to you when you won’t even look me in the eye anymore. There were times when I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid it would just make everything worse. I didn’t wanna risk putting any more strain on us, so I thought maybe I could just deal with things and try to fix them on my own. But after awhile, I realized it wasn’t gonna work that way. I began to grow a little resentment for you, for the way you treated me. And the longer I held it in, the worse it got. I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish lately. Do you think you can forgive me?"

"Tom.. Call.. ambulance.."

"Jamie!? Jamie, are you okay!? What’s happening to you!?"

"Heart.. heart.."

"911, please state your emergency."

"Oh my god, oh my god.."

"Sir, please calm down. I’m gonna need you to state your emergency."

"Hello!? Oh my god, I need an ambulance right away! I- I think my wife is having a heart attack!"

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