Dark Blurred.

Last time I wrote a blurred storyline, I drew the imagery of the fine line between reality and fantasy being blurred together, so close that you’re unable to tell the difference between what is real and what is not.

This is another one of those stories. There’s truth and there’s untruth. Which is which is up to you to decide.

It was just another normal day at the hospital.  People came to visit, nurses stood by drawing blood, chatting to patients, dispensing pills. Doctors on their rounds. Patients walking slowly with their IV drips. In wheelchairs. In chairs. On walking frames. On crutches.

Just another normal day.

He was sleeping. Probably was sleeping. His eyes were shut and his chest rose and fell slowly with each breath. Funny. He was never able to do that when he was awake. He would literally hyperventilate in front of my eyes.

I bent over his bedside and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

“Bob.” He stirred. “Bob.”

“Wha..?” He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.

“I can help you.”

“Help me with what?

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“The sunrise. Yes. The sunrise.” He patted my hand. “Thank you.”

“You got the gun ready?”

“You’d better believe it. I’ve had it for 4 years and I’ve never figured out when to take the shot. Now, I think I know.”

“Got two bullets?”

He looked puzzled.

“One’s for me.”

“Deal.”

Three people. Three individuals wanting to die for all different reasons. But they all sought death. And they would all meet. At Suicide Point.

A beginning to a book I would probably never finish writing. But what the heck. At least I started, right?