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16+ Mature Content

Suicide note

by AlevelHollie

Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for mature content.

Thunder rumbled overhead. The young man stood motionless as he waited for the evening train. In his left hand, a small sheathed umbrella – the kind that unravelled with the swipe of a velcro tab. In his right hand he held the strap of a satchel bag, bulging with papers and a hefty notebook. A stout woman passed him offering only a glance as she trotted briskly towards the far end of the lonely platform, a yellow notice in hand. The unforgivingly rapid clack-clack of her stapler yielded to the closer sound of heels on concrete. A couple moved along the platform in the opposite direction; a middle-aged woman guiltlessly clutching her elderly man as they followed her fervent steps through bites of the cold Autumn air, towards the distant glow of an ATM.

The young man seemed oblivious to the platform. His gaze fixed on the ground, even the serenity of his still feet was only a slight moment of intermission prior to the next act. Ants marched in line, driven by purpose that once may have intrigued the man, but he simply sighed, resorting only to a quick glance at his surroundings. Then, head kept low, he resumed his scrutiny of the split pavement and began clicking his tongue. Each second hauled the home-bound train closer.

* * *

I’m sorry.

The young man’s creased brow was illuminated by the glow of the notebook, the only source of light in his dark room. His chair squealed as he edged his damp face up to a mere inch from the screen. Had he typed that line? The document was open long before he left the train, but not once had he pressed a key. He widened his eyes, refusing the strain and weariness that fought to pull them closed. The sound of rain and now roaring thunder – when it had begun he was not aware – did not aid his cause. Oddly enough, despite the eerie message displayed on his laptop and the discomfort of his still-damp clothing, the weather calmed him.

The young man’s attention eventually returned to his work, looping the rope, pulling it through, tying it off within the darkness of his room. Within the confines of his bedroom, the man normally felt at peace, however the unexplainable words scratched at his thoughts. Little time had passed before the click-click ­taka-taka of the keys on his notebook returned, guiding a chill up the length of his back. From where he sat, the young man could see the words there beneath the previous message:

No way out,

The insertion point – the line that marked the position of the cursor, the one that foresaw where each letter, number or symbol would appear next, the line that kept everything in order – it hovered there, blinking, and it followed the nervous rhythm of the young man’s tongue, cluck, cluck, cluck. He sat there, simply staring, for only a few more moments than one could count, before he realised what he was doing. He stopped clicking his tongue. The only sounds now: the gentle pattering of rain outside and the soft hums of his computer.

Time passed, and cautiously, the man once more edged his chair closer to the desk. His right hand moved towards the notebook and, bearing the grimace of a man being tortured horrendously, he pressed a single key.


A shrill wail instantly invaded the room, saturating the silent air with ethereal agony. The young man rose to his feet suddenly, covering his ears with his shaking hands. He knew her – the woman - he surely couldn’t bear to think of it? Yet, the thought was there. His body shuddered as guilt began to wrench his conscience.

Then, almost as suddenly as it began, the noise ended – replaced by the same click-click ­taka-taka of his keyboard now quickly typing. He once more stole a glance from between his fingers at the glowing screen.

must leave.

That was it.

The young man left the notebook, some unseen entity still typing away at it, and went back to work. He shut his eyes, trying to imagine a peaceful place, but the typing only became more frantic; click-click taka-taka. He clenched his eyes, still fumbling blindly with the rope, while the weather outside began to stir once more. Peals of clashing thunder overwhelmed the sound of rain sheets slamming against the roof.

The young man worked through it all. Finally finished, he stood on his chair. He did so, not with a proud arrogance, but with a calm composure. With his foot, he closed the notebook which had long ceased typing – but not before glimpsing the final line:


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24 Reviews

Points: 27
Reviews: 24

Thu Jul 05, 2018 5:18 pm
magiccharm2002 wrote a review...

Hey! This was definitely a great read. Especially as someone who has actually experienced some of this. I can tell you that you hit the nail spot on with all of your descriptions and settings as well.

Having the man placed in a dark room makes a lot of sense to me. This is because, at least for me my room is always kept in the dark. When it’s dark and I’m alone I feel at peace but I also feel like I’m being haunted to death. Personally I think you did a great job of portraying something like that with this man.

One of my favorite parts was the fact that you made it sort of like a ghost writer. Where the man didn’t fully realize that he was writing the note. In fact it scared him, as he was out of his mind. I think this was great because often times when you reach that point where your about to commit suicide you end up completely disconnecting your mental and emotions from you physical actions. So, be describing it like that, I believe it helped show the point about how far lost the man was within husband own depression and anxiety.

Over all, and absolutely stunning read by all means.

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36 Reviews

Points: 172
Reviews: 36

Tue Jul 03, 2018 11:17 pm
GodfreysBouillon wrote a review...

Ah, yes, a piece that actually interested me!
I've been looking for something good like this for weeks, and I've finally found what i was looking for in this masterpiece.

I'm going to list three things I loved about it-

1. The overall descriptive language. It really helped me picture the perfectly dreadful scenes, and just flowed really well without being too overly wordy or trying to sound too intelligent.

2. The sounds, like this-
click-click ­taka-taka
I love when people are able to use sounds in writing without making it seem like a comic book, and you executed that perfectly. As I'm typing this now I'm amazed at how much it sounds like the click, taka sound sequence you wrote.

3. And the overall story. Depression, dreariness, and horror are some of the greatest things you can put in a story. I definitely feel bad for 'the man' and his tormented mind, and yet I find it fascinating at the same time. (Also I love stories that don't put a name to the character, like this one.)

9/10 great job here.
Lots of talent

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7 Reviews

Points: 63
Reviews: 7

Tue Jul 03, 2018 7:37 pm
aelihe wrote a review...

This is an interesting piece, mainly because it is the first piece in which a story talks more about the process of writing a suicide note rather than the emotion behind it. This has left me with many questions like - who is this man? why is he taking his own life? who does he intend on reading his short letter? But I really liked how you, again, portrayed his struggle with writing the letter rather than focusing on his emotions and personality too much. I think it portrays the severity of a suicide note, and the pressure to say everything, and yet.. he says a few lines. This is the first piece of writing I've read of yours and the ability you have to pull the reader into the exact moment with words like

"the unforgivingly rapid clack-clack of her stapler yielded to the closer sound of heels on concrete."


"replaced by the same click-click ­taka-taka of his keyboard now quickly typing"

is something I really enjoyed simply because I don't read sound words very often, more so describing words, and I think you really helped the reader imagine what it's like to be in the same moment as the speaker.

Good Job! :)

Lice on rats on a horse corpse on fire.
— John Oliver