Nothing much, but it's something I wrote.

Worth a second look?


"Halfway"


It seemed like I’d been climbing forever. The kid picked well. By the time I reached the top I was wondering if I’d be too late, but luckily, he was still sitting there on the edge of the roof when I found him. I still had time.

“Hey!” I called out. “Be careful! You might fall, sitting that close.” The kid mumbled something without turning his head as I walked up to him. “Pardon? I didn’t catch that.” I lied.

“I said, ‘That’s the idea.’ I’m jumping.” The kid was still staring off over the edge.

“Now, why would you want to do something like that? You’re young. Seems kind of a waste to throw away so many years…”

The kid snickered, and spat over the side of the building. “It would be a waste if I didn’t. Waste of food, of oxygen, of time-space… It’s not like I’m doing anything. It’s not like it’ll matter…”

“Come on, it can’t be all that bad. I’m sure someone would miss you.” I tried reasoning with him. He seemed a smart kid, just stressed out. I hoped it would work.

“Of course people would miss me. Anyone who knows me will miss me. Some of them might even cry. People fear change, even small ones that don’t really mean anything.”

The kid was too smart. He’d obviously thought this out… “Well, what about the people your death would affect greatly? Your family, your friends?” Cliches, I know, but sometimes they work.

“Friends? What friends? The kids at school all think I’m some goody two shoes snitch because my dad’s a preacher. They don’t want me around. And my family… They don’t want me around because I’m NOT a goody two shoes snitch…”

“Your father’s a preacher?” I had an idea. I’d hoped it would work…

“Yeah, so?”

“Then, I’m sure you know that suicide is the only unforgivable sin.”

“Your point?”

“Well, you wouldn’t want to spend eternity burning in Hell, would you?”

“Have you ever read the poem ‘Tomlinson’ by Kipling?”

“No, I’m afraid I-”

“It’s about a man who had no soul, because he never did anything. He never lifted a finger to help another man, nor hurt them. When he died, he was trapped between worlds, not good enough for Heaven, but not evil enough for Hell. It was said that being trapped between them was worse than anything Hell could do to him.”

It wasn’t working. “Have you ever been badly burned?” I asked. One last shot at reasoning…

“Yeah,” he replied. “I have, once. The pain was bad, but once you get past it, it was kind of… Beautiful.” His voice had grown distant… I’d lost him. Time for plan B.

“Look,” the kid started talking before I got a chance. “I know my dad sent you. He wouldn’t even come himself. What does that tell you?”

“If I had been him, would you have listened, or jumped already?”

He laughed, and nodded. “Yeah, I see your point. Still, you’re not going to stop me from jumping.”

“I’m not here to stop you from jumping. I’m here to stop you from going to Hell.”

He didn’t understand. None of them ever did. He started to turn around, to ask what I meant. They always did, he was no different. It was the first time he’d even moved to look at me… He never got the chance.

The first bullet sank into his skull a little high and left on the back. I had to step forward to make the second shot; he was already toppling over the side. The second entered just behind his left ear. I figure, between two shots and the fall, he’d be dead for sure. I was afraid any less might have only paralyzed him, or made him brain dead. This way, though, he was sure to avoid the fire. He was a good kid, just lost. He didn’t deserve to burn in hell, not for being lost… None of the kids I’d helped did. All they ever sought was peace—now, maybe they’d finally find it.

And, if it means facing the fires of hell myself… I don’t mind. I’ve made my choice. I’ll take an eternity of torture if it means saving others from the same fate. I think it’s more than a fair trade.