When you leave, who will you leave behind-.pngHow do you even tell someone that someone they know is now dead? That someone they used to care for, that the memories they cherish of them and everything that goes along with that person is no longer there? How to tell them that they can no longer hear their voice from the moment they step into their home… that they will never see that face again?

Is there even a way to do this, let alone a right way?
How do you inform those fuckers who won’t even care that somebody they used to know is no longer among the living? Those idiots who went on a vacation even though they know their mother is dying. Those assholes who know that they had the best father in the world but he was never good enough for them so they abandoned him to await his demise in a lonely house down the street.
How would you inform those people? Would you even?
What if that was your job?
People have become so heartless (and weak) that they don’t know how to share the worst kind of news. It’s a blooming business. In the era of social media and texting and many various ways of making communication as informal as possible, there is still a way to squeeze precious dollar bills from the suckers that exist in this world. It is easy sometimes to make it seem like rocket science.
Do you need to be rootless? No.
Do you need to be strong? Oh yes, you can’t even imagine how much strength it takes sometimes. Mountains and mountains off reserved power to handle the sadness.
Does it get enough? It has, it really has. The breaking point is so far away that even a telescope couldn’t see it.
I can’t handle it anymore. No amount of money can suffice for being surrounded by sorrow all the time, every day, even in my dreams.
Heartless I once was. Cold as steel, I had a legendary poker face. I could have done it all. But now nightmares haunt me. I can’t live like this anymore.
I have a record… of every one of the phone calls, the letters. Had to keep it clean. But now they haunt me every time I take a look at my shelves. So now that I hold a lighter in my hand in front of it, ready to burn it down. Ready to burn the memories down.
Am I going insane? I am, aren’t I?
All the voices… the grieving, the tears, the screams, it all got too freaking much.
My hands shiver as I let a lonely tear down my dry cheeks. A moment to reflect…
The first spark flew by me. I poured gasoline on the shelf and on my carpet. It smells so nice. I wish I could enjoy it more. Such are my priorities now.
I throw the lighter down on the floor. Everything goes out in flames. There is no grand revelation, no slow motion movie scenes
I don’t dare to run. There is no point. The purpose is done. There is nothing left to be added, to be said. There is only to enjoy the sweet flames while they burn me alive.
I do not scream. I brought this upon myself. I wait as the flames consume me. My skin is not getting crispier. I don’t sweat, I am cold as an iceberg.
Who will spread the bad news of my demise? It’s not a problem I should be concerned with but I am.
Oh the irony…

2 Replies to “The ward

  1. Dear Realiti,

    As one of the newer and more interesting writers among the Bloggers I follow, I value your input on the short-short story “Morning Flight” that I posted in response to WordPress’s 7/21/17 Daily Post prompt “Gate”.

    I know you’re busy and your time is precious, but please take a few minutes to peruse my brief post and offer feedback. It’s the first piece of completed fiction I’ve managed to produce in over 20 years. You can find it at:


    Thank you very much. Take care, be well, and happy creating,


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