A Story To Continue, Before Feet Hit The Water
Chapter 1
It had been a long time, and nothing was going right, I was fired, and my wife is trying to divorce, and my child is dead. Then there it was. A bridge stood still over the ripping blue water. I was desperate to end the nightmare of crazy times, lost love, and a broken heart, far beyond mending. My mind raced, would this end my nightmare, would this make this better, was there a better solution? No, there wasn’t. That night had been cold and I went to go to the rim of the bridge. The metal beneath me was cold and unwelcoming. Should I do this, I don’t know, my screaming wife was back at home and a small coffin in the living room. I hadn’t meant this, I meant to go home and fight with my wife, but this was much better to me. My story started with death, and would end with death. My mother died when I was born and 6 years later my father died. I was ready to say bye, so I called my wife and said I love you (it was a lie) and that I would never come back or pick up my phone. With that I hung up, and through the phone into the water below and watched it crash against the rocks. That night I was wearing my yellow sweater, the one my wife hated, my Step-mom had bought as a birthday present, but I don’t think she meant it. I walked to my car and sat in the passenger seat and pulled out a beer, the last one I would have and sat there thinking,what, I don’t know.
Before feet hit the water
Chapter 1
It had been a long time, and nothing was going right, I was fired, and my wife is trying to divorce, and my child is dead. Then there it was. A bridge stood still over the ripping blue water. I was desperate to end the nightmare of crazy times, lost love, and a broken heart, far beyond mending. My mind raced, would this end my nightmare, would this make this better, was there a better solution? No, there wasn’t. That night had been cold and I went to go to the rim of the bridge. The metal beneath me was cold and unwelcoming. Should I do this, I don’t know, my screaming wife was back at home and a small coffin in the living room. I hadn’t meant this, I meant to go home and fight with my wife, but this was much better to me. My story started with death, and would end with death. My mother died when I was born and 6 years later my father died. I was ready to say bye, so I called my wife and said I love you (it was a lie) and that I would never come back or pick up my phone. With that I hung up, and through the phone into the water below and watched it crash against the rocks. That night I was wearing my yellow sweater, the one my wife hated, my Step-mom had bought as a birthday present, but I don’t think she meant it. I walked to my car and sat in the passenger seat and pulled out a beer, the last one I would have and sat there thinking,what, I don’t know.
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