over the edge

January 10, 2011
He stood, still, silent, his arms outstretched, his eyes closed, dressed in black, a silhouette against the backdrop of cities nights sky, everything around him was silent, the city was sleeping, no movement below him, he was alone and he was quiet. His mouth was twisted in a silent scream, everything about him, externally, was silent, his mind however was in turmoil, distress, he didn’t know what to do, what to think anymore, he couldn’t think anymore, it had overtaken him, these things inside of him had taken over. His mouth was the visible scream, his mind the internal scream, he was screaming as loud as he could, to stop the things inside of him, the voices, he wanted to stop the gnawing intensity of this insanity, he couldn’t stand it anymore, listening to the things he didn’t want to hear anymore, ever again, the things he didn’t want to remember anymore, he couldn’t take it anymore, the things he had done, the lives he had ruined, the life he had lead, the people he had changed, it swirled about his mind, the voices speaking it over and over again and none of what he had done was for the better, but all in the name of so called good.
“It’s going to be alright, just do it, it’s all in the name of good.” Those words echoed around his head, the core of his problem, why had he listened? Why didn’t he just say “No.” And leave it at that, walked away, then he wouldn’t be here, but even as he internally screamed to keep the voices away, it all crept back in, the louder he screamed, the louder the voices got, until, it happened, snap, he couldn’t take it anymore, the internal now the external, he screamed out, now this silent person was a world of noise, he screamed as loud as his lungs would let him, but still the voices, they still spoke to him, like devils whispering at his ear, always there, never stopping, so he screamed louder and louder, he threw himself around the roof of the building he was atop, thrashing wildly, madly, to the onlooker it would look as if he was trying to physically push the noise outside of his head, if they knew the voices were there, but they didn’t so the onlooker would see someone they thought of as insane, another mad one for the straight jacket.
He thrashed from one side to the next, his skin becoming bruised and marked, scratched and cut, the scream echoing out across the landscape, but no amount of noise seemed to stop the voices, the voices had their own agenda. The originally silent, sleeping city, was now a turmoil of noise, people woke up, lights flickered on, people looked out of windows, but none of them pinpointing the location of this mad screamer in the night, even he didn’t know where he was. Unable to take it anymore, his voice now hoarse and broken, he stopped screaming, but it still echoed, sitting up he coughed and spluttered blood on the floor, his throat felt like gravel, tears streamed down his face but now in his head, the voices screamed at him, he had screamed long enough, now they wanted to scream back, show him how loud they could scream and he could do nothing about it, he couldn’t take it anymore, there was nothing he could do to stop it, they wanted to be heard, but he didn’t want to listen. Standing up, he looked ahead of him and at full speed he ran, arms outstretched, his eyes closed, dressed in black, the cities backdrop behind him, silhouetted against it, his mind still in turmoil, he didn’t know why he did it, he just wanted the voices gone, it was the only way his fragile mind could think of to help him, and he leapt over the edge.
His body plummeted, the voices still screaming at him, down and down he went, his arms outstretched, the wind rushing against his face, tears in his eyes, was he crying? Or was it the wind?
All he could hear was the voices, the empty street could hear nothing, utter, complete, calm silence, the people had returned to their beds, returned to the slumber land, it was all calm and silent until the sick sound of bones crushing and flesh ripping filled the empty street, he bounced, only slightly and hit the ground again, his nose bled, and a small pool of blood about his head, his eyes still closed, his arms outstretched, his face no longer a scream, or looking as if he was lost in a crowd, but now, peaceful, as if he was sleeping and dreaming of pleasant things, the calmest he had looked in a long time.
None of the dwellers in the street had heard him hit the ground, none of them knew anything of it until the next morning, awaking to find police cars, vans and Officers knocking on their doors asking for statements, none of them had seen anything, they all reported the noise, but none of them had seen anything. They all asked the officers the same questions “But why, why had he jumped over the edge, what had forced him to do such a thing?” and “Do you know who he is? What is his name?” These questions filled the heads of many people who lived on that street, the officers gave them no answers, and so for many days it was all the street talked about, until it was all forgotten, swept under the carpet, only uttered quietly, never spoken of in detail again, a nasty little accident, that wasn’t going to mar their street, oh no, but still, the question remained unanswered, the Police never told them a thing, the papers only reported it as a “Mystery Suicide Jump” none of them knew what had forced him over the edge? We know what, but what we don’t know is what forced him over the edge of his sanity.

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bahannahpeel This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jan. 16, 2011 at 11:11 am

this was really cool. was he schizophrenic? (I know I butchered that word) or was it something else, like magic stuff?

A few run-on sentences here and there. but I loved it!

ashes91 replied...
Jan. 16, 2011 at 11:49 am
lol yea he might have been (: & thanks.
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