1 Artistic Writing on Mon 04 Jan 2010, 21:30
Nicht Erschrocken Zu Schreien (Der Engel Stirbt)
A thousand thoughts ran through his mind as he shut his eyes tightly. Leaning against the wall in the dark, he wondered, was she thinking of him right now. The snow outside reminded him of everything that he was not, pure, beautiful, loved, if merely to bring out emotion by the fact of it just being there, waiting. He often wondered if she ever thought of him, as he always thought of her.
Why was it, no matter what he did, every time he looked into the mirror, a stranger stared back at him, piercing him. The smell of rot and decay was beginning to overpower him. He could feel her cold hands creeping up the back of his neck, in the darkness. It crept right up to his lips and touched them gently. Silence. Not even a whisper. Just the cold, the cold of her hand, it seeped down into the very essence of his being. He opened his eyes, fully expecting to see her standing there, he was alone. He could never escape her. He knew she had moved on, he hadn’t.
It consumed him, the thought of her in the arms of another man. A tear ran down his cheek to rest on his cheek bone. He flicked it off. Pull yourself together. It was just a girl. But it wasn’t JUST a girl. He was in love with her, she made him feel like he didn’t want to be alive, not without her in his arms, always. He felt sick. The nauseating feeling was beginning to fill his entire throat. He coughed. Then again. Blood. The dizziness caught him by surprise, it had never felt like this before. He dropped it to the floor, clatter. The knife stuck into the old floor boards. Blood drizzled down the blade to make a small puddle on the floor. A flash. He could vaguely make out the words "no salvation" under the thick layer of blood, some half dried, some still oozing. Another tear. This one ran down his nose, stayed a moment, then made a very small splash on the ground.
It was like his life, smashed into oblivion. No sense in prolonging the inevitable, tears rushed down his face as he broke down in tears. Why was he so easy to leave behind. He tried to stop the tears, but he couldn’t, the harder he tried, the more tears there were. He wished he could just drown himself in them. Make her go away, GO AWAY!
Nothing, just the rain on the roof to calm him. He couldn’t go on like this. Shakily, he got up. The knife made a clean slice in his wrist. He couldn’t grip the knife anymore, it fell to the ground again. He wondered if the bastards at school would finally be satisfied with this one, last, final cry for help. Nobody was there to hear him, just the wind, and the rain.