The Day It Fades

In many different cultures, death is considered another passage of life – a new chapter. Is this true? What do we see when we die? Do we just stop existing? These are questions unanswered, questions that will likely never get a true answer. What lies beyond you never know, and what you don’t know, scares you.

You began life as a small child, happy as any child could be. You were small and innocent, playful in your mother and fathers hands. You had two sisters, one older by 3 years and another younger by 5. You had a happy childhood, and you were remembered as the kind, carefree, perfect child. When you began elementary school, you were always a bit smarter than the rest. So you had a hard time starting conversations, and therefore having a hard time making friends. Now that you think about it, it seemed kind of dumb. But after those elementary years, you became a bit more reserved, and you started worrying about things you didnt care much about before. You started caring about what others thought – and this is where you went wrong, this is what changed your life.

You finally grew up, and you began middle school. You were nervous, scared, anxious, or even worried. As you walked around the crowded hallways, you did not have anyone to talk to. “It’s because im ugly” you would tell yourself. Even though your mother always told you how good-looking you were. “It’s because nobody likes me” you would think to yourself. Even though you were surrounded by those who loved you. You went home that day and you cried, and cried even more when you realized that school had barely begun, and you still had 1 whole year to get through. After crying, you hated yourself for being so weak. But things got better, you met a couple of friends even though your social skills werent the best. You decided to join school sports, you though you could have fun. But you were very wrong, you saw every practice with anxiousness and fear. You had a long list of enemies, even though you didn’t know why they hated you. Maybe you were just too soft. Thats it – you’re too sensitive.

You grow up, and you were about to leave middle school. You never really liked school, and you always felt dread walking up and down those polished hallways. You always were very self-conscious, and you always lived with the burden of “never being good enough” for yourself. It was then when you found a song that helped you cope with your thoughts, a song that understands you. You spent days in your room listening to that song – days turn into weeks, weeks into months. This is where you developed the habit of staying in your room, and you no longer interacted with your family. Everyday you came home and you locked yourself in your room for hours. While coping with your thoughts, you thought “human existence is pointless. Humans live to die – what if there is no god? Do we just die and do we stop existing completely? The human mind is very complex and advanced, we may just be bacteria that evolved into very complex creatures. Out of curiosity, we made a god and other beings to explain ourselves. Why do all religions have different gods?” You ask yourself. You begin to wonder what happens when we die… do we fade away? Or do we just reset into new bodies? Are we just part of a mechanical alien machine that harvests souls into bodies and makes a fake dimension? What are we??

Either way, this made you very depressed. You turn to deep depression, and you accomplish nothing that summer.

High school. You hated the thought. “Nobody ever liked me in elementary, no one in middle school, so why should I go back to that place?” What you didn’t know, was that is was all in imagination. You had no real problems, so you made them up. You had loving parents, great friends, a good family, and all the love you could ask for. You had a good life. Had.

Why did you do it?

It began one week into high school. You made a few friends, and havent run into any real trouble yet. After school you hung out with some guys who were known as druggies. You began smoking to escape reality. The high you got was amazing, you had never felt anything like it. You began a dirty habit – masturbation. You did it at least 3 times a day, only to find yourself feeling scummy at the end of the day. What happened to that young child with that look in his eye – that look of greatness and determination? It had faded away, and all that remained was the eyes of someone who looked lost, somebody who looked desperate.

The fighting with your parents began. It started with just small scuffles, but it grew into yelling and tears. Your mother always cried after them. However, no matter what you said to her, no matter how bad you were, no matter how hostile you acted against her, she always defended you against your dad. They began fighting, and your father started drinking. He often came home late, only to yell at your mother and he beat anyone or anything that got in his way.

Then they divorced, it was a big change but it was for the better. Your big sister moved out, and she got on with her life. Your little sister spent most of her days crying in her room, only coming out to eat and to use the restroom. Your mom was always out of the house, either shopping or out with friends. When she was home, you often yelled at her and called her bad names. Every day you went to bed feeling more sad and regretful. Your grades plummeted, and eventually you were kicked out of school. Your mom tried to confront you about this, but you only pushed her aside and you left the house. Your mothers pleas were more than enough to set you over the edge, and after 3 days you decided to return home. Your moms love was still there and even after all these years, you still remember her love and when she tucked into bed after her and your father spent hours dancing. While watching them you always fell asleep, and the next morning you would wake up to the fresh smell of pancakes. That was when you were 8.

You were 17 now, and you remembered how life was. Your mothers eyes lost that gleam, and her once black hair was now turning gray. Your little sister always was happy and cheerful, but now it seemed that the world she lived in was haunted by demons and monsters. You wished you could help, but you remembered that YOU did this to her. YOU caused her suffering. YOU caused her worries and fears. You hated life.

Two weeks later your mother received a call saying how your dad had passed away in his sleep. Your mom was very displeaed at the thought and even though they were divorced, she still had feelings for him. That day she spent hours in her room locked away, doing who know knows what. What you did know was that life had just kicked you in the stomach once again.

You thought you had hit rock bottom, and they say that when you hit rock bottom, there is only one place left to go – and thats up. You thought maybe things could get better, maybe you could reverse all that you’ve done. But you were wrong.

After trying to quit drugs, you started receiving calls asking you why you stopped buying. You tried to ignore it at first, but the calls only got more frequent and more harsh. After months of this, you tried to confront them, but you got beat up, had your valuables taken, and you were followed home. Unaware of this, you entered your house only to hear the sound of glass breaking, and your mothers yells. You found her, covered in glass and tears and blood. You ran to her side, but before you could reach her you felt a hand on your shoulder, and in a moments notice your were out cold. You woke up to the cops questioning your mom . Your little sister was missing, no she wasnt missing, she was sitting in the living room crying. The thieves had taken lots of valuables, but hadn’t really hurt anyone. Your mother was scratched by the glass, and other than your bloody head, everyone was fine. You couldn’t forgive yourself for being so clueless and yet again, you had managed a way to mess up the family.

You thought you were a wreck, and you only made things worst. “I know, I know how to fix this and give my mother and family better life” you said. So you went to the bank and withdrew all your money and put it into your mother’s account. You went to get something to eat, and you bought pen and paper. You walked down under the bridges where you lived, under the highway, and into a house that by the most part looked broken down and abandoned. There you sat down, and you began writing.

You wrote this, you don’t know if anyone will ever read it. That’s why you wrote it from this perspective – from the perspective of someone who watched your entire life and is recounting it back to you.

But someone was watching… and that was death. You reached into your pocket and took out those pills that you bought from your drug dealer. They were the same ones used to kill people, mostly convicts on death row and people who were sick and wanted a quick way out.

To my mother which I very love:

I’m sorry I couldn’t do better. I have let you down and all those around me. You were the only one that never left my side, and the only one to pick me up when I was down. If only I could have another chance, I would treasure you more. You are the best mom anyone could ever ask for, and for that I respect you. Never lose that touch, I love you mom.

To my sister:

Stay strong, and you will prosper. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better sibling. Dont go down the same road as me, and accomplish what I couldn’t. Make mom proud, and remain planted in what you believe in. There are times when the world will cave in, but you have to be stronger than those walls. I wished I could’ve spent more time with you, but it is too late for me.

To my big sister:

Thank you for always being a friend, a helping hand, the diamond in the rubble. I will never forget what you’ve done for me. You were never sad, and your happiness was always encompassing and infectious. You could fill a room with smiles, and even make a painting laugh with your infectious joy. You were the best older sister I couldve asked for. You did something with your life, and that made me, mom, and our little sister proud. Father always said how you were determined to better than anyone else, and you achieved that. If father was still here, he would be proud.

As you wrote those final notes, you set your pen down and you put the pills in your mouth, savoring their bland taste.

You woke up to find a figure, about six feet tall dressed in black robes that seemed to carry a darkness within themselves, as if they left a permanent shadow everywhere they touched. A pointed hood that left no chance of seeing the individuals face… if it had a face. It reached out a long, slender hand that was consumed by an everlasting darkness. You took upon that hand and followed the creature into an abyss, a set of stairs that was previously not there. You walked down those stairs, unsure of what was next. You knew you were not in the human realm anymore, and you wished and hoped what you saw was good. You couldn’t have been more damn wrong.

Hi guys! This is my first story on this website, or app. Anyways, leave a comment if you would like to see a part 2. Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you enjoyed!

Image credit:×510.jpg

  • Tess

    Even though I’m a girl, I would love to read Pt. 2! Please continue writing!

    • Newuser001223

      Thank you for reading and im working on part 2 right now as i speak. Glad you enjoyed it!

  • Tallon Nation

    GOOD STORY. pt2

    • Newuser001223

      Thank you for reading, i cant believe how much you liked it! Part 2 coming soon.

  • Fiver

    I don’t think the story is effective. The second person point of view just doesn’t work for the piece which is only emphasized by your attempts to justify it and the swap of point of view. The character is also a bit over dramatic. I get it is a suicide note most of the way through but the tone is poorly created and heavily forced. The issues are addressed almost childishly in some parts. It isn’t all that terrifying either. The fact you switched from a note to a narrative doesn’t really work and further proves the way you chose to conduct the plot isn’t effective.
    To create a second part or second story tacked on to the end of another you need a lot of loose ends. You wrote this in such a way that it works best as a stand alone because there isn’t enough to tie up to create a second story. You don’t want to give away too much because you will take away anything you manage to build up. Don’t deconstruct your own story idea simply to drag it out for attention.

    • Newuser001223

      I really appreciate your time you took to write this comment, i am really astonished. I want to thank you for your insight and for your tips. Im not a very good writer, but my goal is to improve. I work best with constructive critism and i will try to implement that on a future post.

  • Tariah

    Omg this is amazing! I love this and it actually made me cry. I can relate to this so much.

  • Tariah

    Please make a part 2!!!

  • Ray Ramirez

    This was really good!

  • Relaxel

    That was more depressing than creepy, but keep it up! I like when I read a story on here and the writer actually has decent grammar.