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Rated: E · Fiction · Transportation · #1922479
This is a story about a bridge.
The only good thing about having nobody in the house anymore is the fact that when I have to do things like this no one will wake up as I leave.

I walk down the steps. It seems when there is no one to wake these steps make no noise, but the amount of noise that is made when someone is in the house is exponentially louder. Doing this scares me. This is a primal fear that I believe all humans have. To know such a terrible thing happened, yet going through the same routine every night since. It is like the fear of dying during the hunt; you know you have to go out to feed your people, but the risk, you feel, may not be worth the reward. What if you die and your family no longer has someone to feed them? The turn of the steps into the kitchen is a reminder of how empty it is. A long time ago I’d see at least one happy face. Of course after a “promotion” leaving at 3 means nobody is happy to see you in the morning, if there was anyone anyway.

The kitchen is bare without them. They left a long time ago. Hard to think about it sometimes that life can pass you by so quickly.

I grab something quick to eat. Stale pizza. No time to heat it up, I will be late. It feels like everyday I’m coming in later and later. I just barely make the clock. Rock-solid pizza, yum. No time to complain. I grab my keys and go into the garage from the kitchen. I really should fix that old bike up. Maybe I could sell it to one of the neighbors whose kid is still in training wheels, my kids don’t need them anymore.

         The car’s handle is freezing. The days are very cold this time of year. Hopefully the car doesn’t stall. It hasn’t stalled in the past week, but that isn’t up to me. I climb into the driver's seat. I slowly turn the ignition. I hear the engine go on. I will wait a while because the car might stall a little while after starting to drive.

I peer out the garage door. The yellow lights of the tall buildings in the cities light up the sky. Why do so many people keep their lights on. Do they have the same fears as each other? Or do they think the light keeps them from the darkness in this world. I don’t think being in the dark is that bad. Just when you are in it alone...

I should probably head out now. If I keep waiting in here I’ll be late. I slowly press my foot on the gas and begin to drive out of the garage. The roads look bad. I should probably drive slow. The falling snow would present a problem if there were other cars on the road, but nobody around my neighborhood works around this time of the morning, it is only when I get into the city is when it will start to get hectic.

Maybe I should ask for a raise. I have a lot of things I want to do now that it is just me at the house. She left me because she thinks it is my fault that the kids are not coming back home. The kids loved me. They loved her too, I loved her, but they are all gone now, just me I guess. I wish I could contact the kids. Three years is a long time to go without seeing your kids. I have pictures, but it isn’t the same.

Here we are. This is the hardest part isn’t it. I hate this part. No not now maybe I can take another way. I can’t take any other way I have to do this. I turn onto the bridge. My hands sweat and I begin to hold my breath. Am I going to allow myself never to be able to get to work again? No I can make it. The yellow shining light burns into my heart and my mind. That image. Mustered up by one light.

Am I over it? Yes. Thank God. My heart is pounding my chest. My vision is blurred, but it is okay, there are no cars this early in the morning. My life revolves around this bridge. I am glad I am safe.I don’t know why I worry so much about this bridge it has done nothing to me.

I hear a crunch and I feel a massive pressure on my side. Then on the other side. I don’t think I will be awake for much longer. I feel my brain shutting down.



Where am I? I hear voices.

The burning of the flames flushes them out. There is a loud splashing noise. I think I’m okay. I think I see people. They are shining a light on me and they are reaching out. I’m becoming sleepy though so they will have to carry me. I did the right thing though. I don’t think she’ll care though. Sitting in flames with metal piercing through me thinking about how I killed my kids, but it’s her fault. She never made them wear seat-belts. I told her. I told... She never listened that was her problem. Laughing and singing then a crash then four months in a hospital and 50% of the estate. She was something. Now. Well now I’m nothing.

For her it was never about the yellow lights of the city at 3 in the morning drinking coffee and eating stale pizza looking at the pictures on the fridge of stick figures who had more family than we ever did. For her the yellow lights meant the higher places we could go and how when I did that thing with the light in our bedroom where I made the lights flicker without touching it shocked her.

Death was sad. No lights. Except for one I don’t see yet, oh wait.
© Copyright 2013 Jay Holmes (jayholmes95 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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