>>> Item number 11114 from WRITERS LOG9304B --- (105 records) ---- <<< Date: Fri, 9 Apr 1993 17:05:01 JST Reply-To: WRITERS Sender: WRITERS From: Mike Barker Subject: SUB: Death Be Not Bright I think it's a story, of sorts. No dialogue - or maybe it's all monologue? as usual, enjoy - cards and letters welcome at the usual address mike ------------------------------------------ Death Be Not Bright m. barker 4/7/93 762 words The darkest hours of my life were spent under the bright fluorescent lights in an apartment in Rockville, Maryland, with my head in the oven looking at the pilot light. One puff, then turn the handle and let the gas flow. That was my selected method. I'd come back to the apartment after work, fixed dinner and eaten, then sat for a while on that Friday night trying to think of something, anything to fill the bleak hours until Monday. Somewhere in that time, I cleaned the last items I could think of cleaning, looked at the bathtub and considered X-Acto blades and razor blades, then realized that while I knew enough to make the water warm and cut along the arteries rather than across them, it would make too much mess. After considering jumping and dismissing the idea due to the difficulty of opening the windows in my fourteenth floor apartment, along with other schemes and dreams, I determined that the gas oven seemed the best method of filling the time, the aching hours and years that stretched ahead. I stretched out, laid my head in the oven, and looked at the pilot light. I relaxed at last, let my anger and grief go, and thought of those who might miss me. My parents and sisters would hurt, but surely not as deeply as I did, and I hoped they would understand. My coworkers? Don't make me laugh, they would hire a replacement in days and go on. They wouldn't even have to interrupt work for a going away party! My muscles relaxed even more and I watched the pale blue flame dancing in my light breathing. I puffed a little, and watched it shimmy, yellow streaks momentarily flickering on its edges. Oddly comfortable, the tile floor and the door of the oven, with the rack making a pillow for my head. I hadn't expected that it would be comfortable. I looked around the kitchen, at least the part I could see from inside the oven. Bright out there against the dimness of the oven. The whirr of the refrigerator started, and I got up quickly and unplugged it. No explosions if I could help it. Just a gas-filled room and one body, simple and plain. I started to lie down again, and hesitated. In the dimness of the oven, the soft blue flame beckoned, but there was something scratching at my mind. I glanced around, then up. Oh. The fluorescent lights might set off the gas. Easy to fix. I stood up again and flipped the switch by the door. Then I blinked a few times, reached out and fumbled my way to the oven. The floor had cooled again, but felt nice against my calves. My friend, the blue flame, danced a bit as I settled down. I apologized for the delays, and looked away again, into the darkness outside the oven. After a while, trying to think about nothing, I realized there was a spot outside the window. I could only see a small part of one window from where I lay, but there was something out there. I puzzled over it, then smiled. Of course, it must be a low hanging star. Let's see, would it be a part of Orion, or... I couldn't figure out which part of the sky I was seeing, so I got up again. I walked to the window and looked out, the glory of the stars spread for me on that night. A trace of cloud south of the apartments glowed in the city shine, but the sky was dark, richly spread with specks of light. I watched, my jaw dropping, until I had to blink back tears. My eyelids fluttered, trying to dampen eyes that sparkled with afterimages. I went back to the kitchen and closed the oven door. I couldn't turn out those lights, and I decided I didn't want to try. Too many friends out there, waiting to show me what they could do, for me to worry about how to fill the time. The brightest hours of my life were spent in the dark in an apartment in Rockville, Maryland, with my head pressed to the window watching stars, waiting for morning. The sunrise was especially beautiful that morning, as the stars faded and the early morning clouds glowed to life. Even the burps and groans of traffic on the nearby streets were a welcome part of the eternal spring, waiting outside and inside for me to notice. ------------------------------------------