At Peace

October 1st

         The sun's yellow rays fell over an empty playground as it descended a mountain to the West. Dried leaves unfurled in the wind, revealing withered oranges and browns. The dead silence of Autumn made Alex anxious. A soft rustling was the only thing to be heard.
         From a second story window, two blank eyes were the only pair faced toward the street, toward Alex. It was the equivalent to no one looking upon the road. Those empty eyes did not comprehend what they saw, they did not follow as a figure approached the front door of the house they occupied. Instead Jim, whose eyes they were, kept them glued to the image of a white balloon swaying in the wind, tied to his mail box.
         "Hey Mrs. Crisman, can I go up to Jim's room?"
         Her bushy eyebrows furrowed as she opened the door slowly. In the last month she had aged at least three years, maybe more; There were new stress lines across her forehead. Pitch-black pupils shriveled in the sunlight. Alex took a step through the doorway, and ascended the stairs, slipping into the first door on the left.
         His friend had not moved an inch. Jim sat with a vacant expression as his visitor approached. It was difficult to discern whether he had even noticed Alex's arrival.
         "Still the same then?" Alex asked jokingly, half-heartedly. He sighed and sat down next to his closest friend, the one who had always been there, willing to support him. Now he had to say something important, something concerning the matters of life and death, and his friend could not listen."Maybe you can hear me, you just can't respond," Alex thought out loud. He had considered this before, but had never found hope in the thought.
         Resting his head in his hands, Alex knew he would say what he came to say and wait for a sign, any sign, that his friend understood. He began, "Look, I've lost you. I don't have anyone else. I  walk through the same routine every damn day, and I can't go home without tripping over empty bottles of Jack. It's getting really bad, Jim. She's getting really bad."
         Looking up, Alex was not sure what he expected; for Jim to be looking at him, to talk to him, tell him everything would be alright? No, the doctors said Jim might never be the same. "I... I just want to sleep, all the time." He stared at Jim for a moment, almost hopefully.
         Finally, Alex let out a breath, "I'm going to kill myself."
         Jim stared blankly out his window.


Part II

October 2nd

         The sky was dark, the clouds blew south at rapid speeds. Alex stayed focused on the ground as he walked, crunching every dead leaf laying in his path. He wore a backpack raised up to his shoulders by halfway decayed straps. It was not heavy, but seemed to weigh down on him more and more as he approached his high school.
         Slipping through the gate next to the football field, his steps became more deliberate. He pictured how it would look from his own point of view to fall racing toward the ground, then feel a tug level with his ears... to remain suspended in the air. Now he kept his feet on the ground, thinking of empty bottles, lost causes. He thought of the blank expression on Jim's face, of nights spent alone, nights spent at Jim's consciously alone. Hello...hello?
         Drugs. Should he blame it on the drugs?; his mother's dismissive attitude toward her son, his friend's paralysis, his own depression?
         The door to the gym was unlocked as Alex luckily discovered. The building stood forty feet tall with the basketball courts and locker rooms on the first floor. To the left of the locker room door there were stairs; four flights of stairs leading up to the run-down weight room, the graffiti coating on the walls. Parallel was the aerobics area, an empty room with moth-eaten pads laying on the floor. The significance of the room, the thing which brought our friend Alex here was it's overlook of the basketball court, which stood a solid twenty five feet.
         He ascended the stairs and stood on a blue mat thinking about the drugs, hating part of himself for craving the drugs while telling himself he should hate them. He marveled over the weaknesses of the human mind, soul, and will. Everyone is allured by the possibility of escape from their troubles. Temporary relief is gained from the drugs which kill you slowly, sometimes damage life quickly, ruthlessly. How alone he was now, how perfectly alone. He would at last be dignified, to send a wake up call to this place, to the faces he saw always jeering.
         One basketball hoop hung from the ceiling next to the spot where Alex now stood, looking down at the basketball court, looking at the circle in the middle where one would shoot a three-pointer. Poles supporting the basketball hoop curved into the wall of the drop-off. He tied a rope from his backpack onto the bar in a practiced sailor's knot, at the other end was a ready noose. Alex stood, now he'd just have to step off the side of this wall... then he would be off to never land, to never land. Serenity. Anything! The boy was used to falling asleep each night hoping he would not wake up in the morning. Now he needed to pursue death, he took a step.


Part III

         That night the wind cracked down like a whip on Jim's window. The white balloon tied to his mailbox swayed and danced, welcoming the oncoming storm which would whip trees and blow pain through the cracks in the window, but would bring the flowers to life again. Jim's expression remained blank, but his eyes followed the white mass almost deliberately.
         At eleven pm, Mrs.Crisman moved her son from his window seat to his bed in the Northwest corner of the room. As she did so she mumbled news of the tragedy which had occurred earlier in the day.
In the wonders of sleep and dreams, Jim's subconscious was awakened, and he traveled through a familiar but confusing realm. They were vehement dreams laden with loss and blood-spill. A white balloon floating up into the air, then popping, popping and falling, plummeting back toward the ground. A figure approached speaking in a soft, desperate voice, I'm going to kill myself. I'm going to kill myself. Then, A tragic event this morning, so sad, such a shame. With a jolt Jim sat up, and found his mouth open in a scream. He got out of bed, paced around the room, and remembered.
         Eight people dropped acid that night
         The house was cloudy, Jim sat on the couch, breathing in the marijuana fumes slowly, smiling to himself.  Eric arrived with the acid, ten hits.
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         The introspective experience Alex had cannot be put into words. He was removed from his body and thrust into a world laden with geometric patterns.
         He looked over at his friend with a grin on his face, expecting to receive one in return. Instead he got a blank stare, a frozen illusion, he shivered. Went outside to smoke a cigarette, shivered. Something was wrong but he was like Buddha, he was peace, and the colors were swarming like a cloud of tranquility waiting to rain upon the group, so he joined the group; the tripping group and took part in the bond they all formed, became a part of them while Jim stared at the same spot on the wall.

October 3rd

         The body... was cold. Icy lifeless flesh twisted sadistically over a waxen doll portraying Jim's friend. The funeral was short. The physical education teacher who found the body dangling from the ceiling, attached to the pole of a basketball hoop he aimed balls at routinely five days a week. Compulsively, he wrapped his hand around his neck, and cringed slightly.
         Maneuvering himself through the sea of grim-looking family members, Jim walked out of the service. This was surreal, it was a dream. It felt as if the last month had been a dreamless night, a gap in time. Today he had awoken to a nightmare. He wished he knew Alex's motives, but felt a tinge of guilt upon realizing his condition must have been a contributing factor, if only slight.
         On the walk home, dead leaves crunched under his feet, a sound which surprised Jim. Last time he remembered walking this path, all these leaves had been hanging vibrantly green from the trees. Reaching the house, he caught a glimpse of a white balloon on the mail box. Silently, Jim untied the balloon from it's harbor, and set it free into the endless sky. He watched it fly until it disappeared, then walked inside.