It’s raining.
Death is cold. It's listless and it's frightening. It’s the inevitable cause of all things we fear. All things we cant control. Its our only ending, our final bow. It’s the moment the ecstasy fades and there is nothing left but a memory of when we took our first dive, or the taste of a first kiss.
It’s raining.
I had watched the droplets fall; endlessly careening downward when all anyone could ever wish for was going up. Like fallen angels, each crashed and melded against cement, leaving blackened, ruddy streets and the cool, dampness that was so hard to rid oneself of.
How long had it been raining?
We were driving, mum and I. Heading home from a vacation up north. It had been a peaceful time, but one in which left me exasperated with mother’s constant worrying and ever present self. When home, she would inevitably have to leave.
I had pulled my knees up to my chest, feet balancing precariously against the edge of my seat. The sound of rain had left me tired and wishing for the warm confines of my bed. A sweet pattering of liquid teardrops that consisted of my lullaby. With each moment wasted, I imagined my life endless. My love eternal. The thought of infinite humanity was soothing, but unrealistic. The kind of thoughts that should be pushed aside and forgotten.
To a sick child, though, they were the only thoughts I cared to understand.
Traffic slowed, though for whatever reasons I had little interest in. I wasn’t sad. I was young, and childish still. For others, the time for worry would come at a later date. For me, though, that time never came.
I turned towards the window. Towards the twinkling drops that left a sheen across the glass. They would each fall, racing towards where the window met the rest of the door, leaving thin, wet trails in their wake. I used to choose which one I wished would fall first, hoping that it would live up to all the potential I didn’t have. When another droplet fell before it I would be sad. Those odd days, though, when the drop fell first, I would feel happiness that usually strayed away from me.
Today was a different day, though. I didn’t pick a raindrop. I didn’t care to think about rain at all. The thing that had taken my interest was a car that had stopped before us, the driver exiting before reaching for the edge of the bridge. When I turned my eyes towards mum, her knuckles were white.
In a quick, almost instinct movement, she dug into her pocket for her cell as if each second that passed would mean something tragic. Something that would be her fault. Whilst she did this, I returned my attention towards the driver.
He was young, no more than twenty, with cropped hair and deeply tanned skin. He wore his clothing with relish, jeans neat and t-shirt impeccably white. Even his boots – large, black, lugging types – were shined and as glossy as the glasses perched upon his well-shaped nose.
He was pulling himself up onto the railing, hands grasping at rivets to steady himself out as a smile crossed his cheeks. The smile that would haunt me for many a year. A smile that left my stomach knotted and my heart pattering wildly within my chest, as a hummingbird’s might.
And the girl.
Mum was panicking now. She was trying to unbuckle her seatbelt but her hands were shaking and her body was trembling. The tears started to prick her eyes and trail along her cheeks as the raindrops had along the windowpane. The knots in my stomach constricted, no words coming to my lips.
The boy turned his eyes towards the girl. I wasn’t sure how she got there or why she took his hand within hers. She was standing on the railing too as if readying herself for whichever cause he should take.
He did not take his glasses off when he jumped. I remember mom saying this to her friends over the telephone weeks after it happened. That he had left his glasses on when he jumped to his death. That his boots would have weighed him down if the initial impact into the water hadn’t killed him first. That there was no hesitation nor fear when he jumped.
I remember the police reports. The witness reports. The questions asked and answered. I remember mom telling the cop all she could remember about what had taken place.
But what I remember most of all was the girl, and that only I could see her.
~~
Spoiler
Okay, so this is the start of a novel I'm extremely excited about. I understand the idea of the character isn't really given quite yet but most of that is introduced in the first chapter.
So tell me what you think!
Also, if you'd like to be notified when the next chapters are posted, just join my writing club thingy! It may feel like shamelessly plugging, but that's okay ;D
~Walker
So tell me what you think!
Also, if you'd like to be notified when the next chapters are posted, just join my writing club thingy! It may feel like shamelessly plugging, but that's okay ;D
~Walker
Or was there two guys? One on the railing and one in the car? No wait.. I'm so confused! In the beginning you say there was only you and your mom in the car... so was there a second car with a guy driving and then a girl on the railing. Haha, I really am confused. You must clear my thoughts out! 
