literature

Think (Chapter 1)

Deviation Actions

By
Published:
44 Views

Literature Text

Quite often nowadays, I just sit down and think, y’know? I just turn on some music, and just think. It’s not like I have anything else to do. Plus, I’m growing a bit old. Actually, my 35th birthday was just yesterday, believe it or not.
I don’t think about family, friends, not even that Playboy magazine I keep under my bed. Oh no, I think about myself. Not in a selfish manner of course, but I think about stuff I shouldn't have done. I shouldn't have left my wife and kid.  I shouldn’t have blocked out society. I shouldn't have fucked around with the people I’ve fucked around with.
But most importantly, I know I shouldn't have killed the people I did. If that sentence shocks you, I’ve got something for you. You’re probably one of the most naïve people in the world. Hell, I even told you I’ve blocked out society entirely. No phone calls, no answering the door, no outside…
And now, it comes to this.
There’s a Glock 17 lying on the nightstand on my right of me. I can almost feel the cold touch of its grip from my bed. By now, I would call you mentally handicapped if you didn’t realize what I’m about to do.
It’ll be quick, easy, and I’ll only feel pain for a nanosecond of a nanosecond.
Out of the blue, I started to hear a familiar voice sing. It made me jump slightly as the soothing voice left the speakers.
“I feel so unsure, as I take your hand, and lead you to the dance floor.”
I chuckle, and shake my head. I forgot I had the speakers turned up that loud. I then take a look at the somewhat outdated PC. Windows XP. Everyone LOVED it back in the day. Careless Whisper, huh?  It was THE perfect song to commit suicide to. A slow, calming saxophone? Perfect.
If any police officers come looking for me, I might as well give them a quick chuckle before they return to their miserable jobs, eh?
But that’s not the point.
I take one last look at an old photo of mine. The photograph is very old, but it was intact. It was my wife, my son, and I. “Fuck you.” I say to it, and I crack a smile. They never gave a fuck about me.
I never gave a fuck about them, either.
I didn't even bother with a prayer. After all the wrong things I’ve done, no god in their right mind would allow me in their palace.
Well, this is where I must stop writing. I’m afraid I don’t really want to do this for much longer. That Glock is REALLY tempting. And, as any logical person might know, tempting things need to be tended to.
Goodbye.
-Your friend,
Carl
So, I'm writing a little story.
Here's the first chapter.
© 2014 - 2024 CaponeTime
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In