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Life Trapped in a Bottle

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An hour left to suffer... A life. A mind. A pair of dark, bloodshot eyes. A single gulp, poison trickles down and trembling fingers clenched around the remains of his life. His limp hair cloaks his face, separating him from sanity, casting an unearthly shadow, lingering over the shard of Hell now embedded in the black of his heart. His hopes of finally proposing to the one who saved his love from ever dying out, dreams of selling his first piece of beautiful artwork, memories of Christmas dinners and his little brother's joke book that made him laugh until he cried, all dissolved, slaughtered as He sits behind the wheel.


An hour left to breath... A life. A soul. A pair of glistening baby blues. Wearing her heart on her sleeve, her imagination in the palm of her hand. A leader, a lover, a dedicated young woman taking her first breath of independence. Each moment of her time left lasting a lifetime, every moment larger then life. Her hum is echoed by the stars, singing the heartfelt lullaby of the unspoken melody dripping from the Lord's hidden angels. Each of them watching resistantly from the radiant sun, praying but unable to help. Her hopes, dreams, memories, drowned in a salted pool of tears yet to drip off her flawless flushed cheeks. She sits behind the wheel.


A half hour left to divour his soul... His attention was elsewhere, weaving a path between air molecules, floating off with every slurred word, escaping his grasp with every wrong impulse. His expression a mirror, reflecting only the image encircling him rather then letting it sink beneath his coarse skin. A mirage, swarming and swallowing him whole until everything in his vision is flattened to a grey haze. An empty bottle resting in his lap, the toxic life he came to know, sucked down his sour throat and staining the breath that pours from his lunges, now sprinkled with ash. He presses all his weight on the petal glaring at his feet, resistant to cooperate but without an option.


A half hour left to dream... A smile, radiant as Heaven itself, plastered across her face. Her spirits levitating higher then they have ever been, her touch as warm as a humid summer's day. Her phone vibrating at her side but her gaze transfixed on the pavement rolling under her wheels, falling behind beneath her wings. Her lank braids tied neatly down her back, her watch discreetly ticking, seemingly loud in the silent car, accompanied only by her naive sigh.



Twently seconds... He wonders what time it is, giggling because he can't see the numbers glowing across his dashboard.



Ten seconds... A broad light, making her vision vague, hides the streat in front of her.



Five seconds... He turns his head to the road and gasps yet not quite registering what fate lay limp ahead.



Four, three, two, one... (both put heads down on one) Her heart ceases to a sudden halt and her breath ajourns her lungs. Her shrill scream is cancelled out by the earsplitting thunder shaking her life. Gone. In that moment, her life was in God's hands.


The worst part is not that her family will be broken hearted for life, dying with guilt as the days pass though they could not have impacted the tragic situation. It is not that her family cried for a month strait. It is not that her parents burst into uncontrollable tears when they see her picture. It is not that her friends have nightmares about losing her all over again, how none of them will see her again.


The worst part is not that his family hardly flinched. It is not that his parents didn't bat an eye, renting out his room for extra food money. It is not that hardly anyone knew his whole name, that the lack of compassion he recieved drove him to his poison.


The worst part is... The worst part is... That the situation could have been completely different. That if he had not taken those last few sips, if he had been sober enough to comprehend the danger he had put himself into, this never would have happened.


So where are they now? Where are their families? You tell me. (both point to the crowd.) Live above a wrong impulse, look beyond sorrow and see a future. Think about your decisions before you make an unfathomable mistake, now out of your reach. Save your life before it's trapped in the bottle in your hand.



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This article has 2 comments. Post your own!

evnewman said...
Mar. 13, 2012 at 10:12 pm:
omg super good! keep writing!
 
Rachielol replied...
Mar. 29, 2012 at 8:01 pm :
Thank you! I'll be sure to read some of your pieces as well. ;)
 
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