Young Writers Society

Miserable Mary had lived her life the way that her name sounded. She went through sixteen years with the blinders of misery fixed upon her face. Every moment was an opportunity for tragedy to strike.

Going through life this way was no way to live. She set herself up for failure, feeling always like a lamb sent to slaughter. Yes, she felt that doomed in her life.

What could be the cause, for all of this bad luck? For all of these tragedies that have come Miserable Mary’s way? Was it the fact that she’d accidentally broken a mirror when she was younger? Was her family cursed in some way, the remnants of some gypsies grudge upon her great-great-grandfather?

No, no, none of these things could be blamed. It was barely Miserable Mary’s fault that that mirror had broken so many years ago- it had just fallen over when she walked by. And there was no way her family was cursed. They had been the most respectable family in town, for so many centuries. They could be traced back to the 18th century, as a matter of fact! And they were just as fine then as they are now.

So, Miserable Mary was left with no answer for why she faced so much misery. It all seemed like too much for a fragile sixteen year old girl.

Indeed, it had become too much. The tragedy of the death of her beloved mother had recently struck. Breast cancer. That sent Miserable Mary over the edge. People can only handle so much, you know. The mind, the heart- they have limits, of how much pain they can possibly bear.

Miserable Mary decided she had reached her limit. This decision did not come lightly; much contemplation was necessary to come to such a glum decision. Such an irreversible decision.

She was set to throw herself off of a bridge. Really, it was going to be a very nice place to die. A beautiful bridge, covered with lively vines that the town couldn’t be bothered to remove anymore. That bridge, overlooking a wonderful, yet treacherous, bay. God, Miserable Mary even thought she felt… excited to die there. Coming, finally, to an end, and it was going to be in such a beautiful and peaceful place. She knew it was her only option, the only cure for the misery that’s followed her around throughout all of the years of her life.

Throughout those years, several things, bad things, happened to Miserable Mary. The fact that all of those events happened to one person seems incredulous, but, it is the unfortunate truth. Uncles who were a little too touchy, mothers who died, fathers who were emotionally absent, grandparents that died, friends that ditched her, and the list goes on and on. She’d seen it all, she’d lived through it all.

So, she was brought to this bridge now, where no cars whizzed by and the only other entity surrounding her were the ghosts whose lives came to the same violent end. She felt surrounded by them, their voices and wispy bodies suffocating her. Really, though, that was what made this area so peaceful; the fact that there were no other people around. No cars disturbed you here, no one hurt you here. Only you could hurt yourself here.

The water below her rushed- incessant, hungry, and never-ending. This water was much like Miserable Mary, or at least she thought so. It never rested, ever. It always moved, thinking, waiting, for something at all to happen. And it would be like that, until the end of its time. She hadn’t known peace since she was in the womb, a moment of blissful existence. Finally, she would reunite with that peace.

Her arms fastened her onto the bridge, behind her body and positioned in a mangled manner, to keep her safe on the bridge and away from the water. She realized that, if they found her body after this, she’d probably be all mangled and out of shape then, too.

Now, when she was so close, she felt so alive. It’s funny how life works; it takes a near-death experience for one to really appreciate life. No one realizes how thin the line between life and death is. Miserable Mary had faced many tragedies, but none of them had brought her this close to death. The only thing standing between her and the water was her own arms, that held on so tightly.

The tremendous gust of wind that came next really pushed her into death’s clutches; she was so close that she could smell its sickly sweet breath upon her cheek. Death was holding onto her, pilling her down into the water below, as she frantically tried to get a better grip on the side of the bridge. She was completely unprotected here, and mostly out of control; on the outside of the railing, with only her arms as a safeguard. She wanted to be down there, or at least her mind did, but her body kept her held on to the railing.

When she felt her grip wavering, time seemed as if it were suspended. Everything slowed, yet Miserable Mary’s brain and body kept moving, like she were moving through quicksand. Colors were more vibrant around her; what once seemed dull now popped at her, screaming in its hues. Her eyes felt overwhelmed by the sigh. Never had she seen something so beautiful.

While time stood still, Miserable Mary carefully maneuvered herself onto the bridge, once again. She wanted to get a closer look at all of these colors, through these new glasses of life she’d been given. She gave herself a few twirls, taking in the way the colors danced before her eyes.

The way that her breath created clouds as she breathed out amazed her. All of these signs of life, the trees waving, had they always been there? Miserable Mary, who was not so miserable any longer, couldn’t accept that all of these things had always been around. Frankly, she was frightened. This was not normal, no, everything was off here. Maybe, she’d already fallen, and this was the afterlife. She gave herself a pinch on the arm, and it hurt. No, this was all real, then.

When time had picked up the pace and her breathing returned itself to normal, Mary began her trek home, where she lived with her father. She used to have a sister too, but she didn’t make it through infancy. Just another one of the tragedies she faced. Mary thought about it now, and didn’t feel as devastated by it as she usually did; looking on the bright side, Mary was glad they got to spend a few months with her at least.

As she walked, she was stuck in a daze, where her brain was completely focused on nature and nothing else. The trees spoke to her, the grass whistled tunes into her ears. Everything just seemed so alive, everything was teeming with life. She started to really feel crazy, when that overwhelming happiness consumed her in a way that it never had before.

She pushed the wooden door open, cherishing the warmth of the heat that warmed her body once she was inside.

“Mary, is that you?” Her father called after her in his gruff voice.

“Yes!” She responded in a cheery tone that was utterly unnatural to her. It was like the noise had come out of someone else’s mouth entirely.

Mary went over to the mirror, just to make sure she was still the same person on the outside. Yes, she was all there. Black dress, black eye makeup. All of her was there. What could explain this mental transformation then?

Mary plopped herself down on the couch, completely relaxing and letting the entire weight of her body press into the couch.