Laura looked at her watch as her heels clacked on the pavement. She nearly twisted her ankle twice trying to pace wider than she was used to, striding with a jogger’s gait more than a businesswoman’s. She looked at her watch again, almost willing it to turn back.
Shit shit shit.
Note: I’m exploring dark fiction, so please don’t set me up for an intervention or psychiatric help.
***
Two… four… six…
I remember how it all started. It was the day I decided my hands weren’t clean enough. It went on for a while until my parents started doubting my long hours in the bathroom. It was bad, them finding me scalding my hands in the sink. Sometimes, they had to open the door for me because I’d be too afraid to touch the doorknob. I’ve lived with OCD for twenty more years after that, and I can’t say how many times I felt like giving up.
Came across this writing prompt on Reddit and decided to try it out for the funsies. The prompt was: A cop arrives at a bridge to talk a man out of committing suicide. After they have a short conversation, the cop jumps off the bridge.
***
Officer Palmer drove along the bridge thinking about the events that morning. His wife had drank too much–again–but this time she was ferrying their daughter to school. Both turned to pulp after colliding with a semi. But that wasn’t what Palmer was thinking about.
I squeezed my one-way ticket as I boarded the bus. The stub permeated in my sweaty palm, wet from anxiety and excitement. This is it, I thought. A new chapter in my life is about to unfold. I took out my phone and texted her, “On the way. See you love!”
I felt like I was diving head first into things, and perhaps moving in with somebody I just met wasn’t such a good idea, but I’ve always been enthralled by the spirit of adventure, and this was the beginning of one. I looked out into the passing landscape, not knowing what the near future held, and I sometimes wonder if I’d still have gotten onto that bus, had I known what it did.
Now that I have a separate section to show my work, I feel like the blog can be used for the “bloggier” posts, such as pictures of my lunch, or two sentence updates. After all, being somewhat of a recluse, a friend once admitted that my blog provided more insight into my life than an evening with her. So yeah, I think I need to work on stuff.
Your Friendly Malaysian Writer 