His hands shook as he looped the rope and began twisting it into the infamous slip-knot that would end his misery. Carefully he counted, and thought of all the reasons he was twisting the rough twine.

One...

A voice on the phone. “There’s been an accident.”

Two...

Flashing lights reflecting off the hospital walls in the ambulance bay.

Three...

Strong arms holding him back.

Four...

Breaking free.

Five...

Fists against the door between him and his wife.

Six...

The flurry of activity.

Seven...

The sudden quiet.

Eight...

Silence broken by the thin wail of a baby.

Nine...

A doctor’s hanging head.

Ten...

An incubator whizzing past him, surrounded by people blocking him from seeing his child.

Eleven...
The doctor telling him that their child didn’t have long, and placing the tiny form in his arms.

Twelve...

The babe sputtering out like a dim candle.

Thirteen...

The apologetic nurse taking away his future and his past, and then asking him if he wanted to meet with a minister.

Thirteen twists. He couldn’t remember where he’d read that a noose was supposed to have thirteen twists, but it sounded right. He gave the rope a firm tug to test its strength, and satisfied, began glancing around to see what he could secure it to. The high arched ceilings of their living room were shadowed by the slowly twirling blades of the twin ceiling fans she’d installed shortly after finding out she was pregnant. They reminded him of her. They were perfect.

He glanced around for a way to reach the slender pole the closest fan was suspended from, and focused on the antique chairs she’d refinished for their dining set. He remembered going with her to pick out the fabric for the chair pads. He’d talked her into the green because it matched her eyes.

The chair made a rasping sound on the tiled floor. They’d talked about pulling out the tile when the baby came, because it would be cold on little hands and knees, and hard on a little bottom when their child took his first steps. No need to pull it out now.

He stepped up onto the chair, and felt himself sink into the cushion. He had to stand on tip-toes to reach the top of the fan. He gave the rope a few tugs. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. He had failed at so many things. He would not fail at this.

Satisfied that he’d done everything correctly, he slipped the noose around his neck. The rough rope felt like a week-old razor blade rasping against his skin, pulling and stinging. He slid the knot down so that it was snug. He noticed that his hands were trembling. Would this reunite him with his family? He reached under the noose and tried to loosen it with one finger. When he realized what he was doing, he let out a barking laugh. Why was he worried about comfort?

The laugh brought him out of his haze. Surely, if he could find something to laugh at now, there was something worth living for. He started to loosen the noose, to slide it off his neck, when his feet slipped. The chair fell with a clatter. He felt the rope jerk, and then tighten. His mind screamed in protest. I’ve changed my mind! His fingers plucked frantically at his neck while his legs flailed for support that was not there. Spots began to swim in front of his eyes. Right before gasping for the last time, he took a ... and realized that salvation would not be his today.

Inspiration: Lighting The Way by misstrixie

Strike, click.

She heard the match being struck, and the shutter click that always accompanied it. She saw the match through the cracks in the barricaded door. It burned briefly in the darkness, revealing the ugly, sneering face of the paparazzi that lit it, his ancient Minolta XK at his face. He was always ready with that camera.

Strike, click.

"Come on out, sweetie, I know you're in there...."

Her leg was shaking like it always did when she was afraid.

Strike, click.

Another match. He'd lit hundreds of them as he'd attempted to lure her out. He spent every day in the dark hall outside the basement door in the old factory. She knew he wouldn't break it down―he needed her alive and unhurt. He would wait her out. Her food was gone, and she was almost out of water as well. He'd chased her down here a week ago, and he still hadn't gotten his photo. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"Just one shot, darling, I promise."

Strike, click.

Liar. There wouldn't be one picture; there'd be dozens. He'd sell them to the foreign gossip rags for a small fortune in canned food and new rolls of film. Her story would make the front page of some tabloid: A rare unscarred survivor of Nuke Day, starving like the rest of them. No longer so beautiful, but still alive. A freak of nature.

"You have to come out sooner or later, you know."

Strike, click.

The city had been leveled. Little was left. No electricity. Almost no food or water. There weren't many survivors, either―just enough for the city's paparazzi to make a living. This one wanted her to be his next pay check. It would be a big one, at least by the standards of 2035.

"I'll make you a deal: We can split the proceeds."

Strike, click.

Her barricade was holding, so she went back to her digging in the adjoining machine shop. The concrete was old and crumbling, but it was still difficult going. It had taken four days to break through to the steam tunnel below the floor. She'd hoped to leave yesterday, but she'd decided to wait. She needed to be sure that the paparazzi couldn't pursue her.

"OK, honey, I'm going to go eat now. I'll be right outside the gate upstairs if you want some dinner."

Strike, click.

He light one final match, and vainly took one final picture by its dim light. Then he left. She knew he was upstairs on the plant floor, or just outside, in the ruins of the city, doing whatever it was that paparazzi did while waiting for their victims to capitulate. She knew she had an hour.

She didn't plan to capitulate. She didn't plan to go out the way he expected, either.

She went back out to the door, and listened for a long time, just to be sure he was gone. Satisfied, she silently dismantled the barricade that she'd been manning all week. She left the outer door open, and walked back to the machine shop, pushing the inner door closed behind her. Then she opened it again, just a little.

During the week she'd gathered all of the welding gas bottles from the shop, and she'd spent the morning chaining them together and arranging them on her side of the inner door. They were ready. She opened the valves.

She entered the steam tunnels at eight o'clock. She was a mile away when she heard the explosion. The sound made her smile for the first time in eight days.

here is the image I used.

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START OF TEXT ENTRY
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It was her father's car; a mean machine with a heart of steel, just like him. He was home.

Her eyes widened with terror. She decided the closet would be the safest place to hide and lunged for the door and closed it behind her. She moved her clothes around and maneuvered herself into the corner. With her back to the corner, she squatted down, listening carefully.

She heard her parents talking, a distant mumble of welcome home talk. Her mother laughed as she always did when her father tried to be funny

It was quiet again. The silence petrified her. She could feel it creeping up the stairs toward her room, searching for her, shouting her name.

Footsteps on the stairs, slowly approaching. She knew his step, only he could make that fifth stair creak. "Carol!" he called. "Where's daddy's little girl?"

She covered her ears and closed her eyes, thinking she wasn’t his little girl. She was 16 and almost a woman. "Carol!" he knocked on the door. "I've got something special for you!"

Carol sunk lower onto her feet, sweating terror, a stench that quickly filled the small closet. She knew he was just outside the door, could feel her revulsion of him. Her heart pounding, she bit her lip, trying not to cry out.

Then, a knock at the closet door. "Baby, are you in there?"

Feeling trapped by his evil, her bladder loosened and she peed all over herself, onto the floor. Sitting in the dank puddle, she whimpered softly, wishing he would go away.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked.

She did not reply. Keeping her eyes averted as he led her out the closet, she imagined herself in another place - perhaps the park; the swings and all those children laughing.

"Baby, what have you done now? You're all wet!" He lifted her skirt to see the wetness on her legs. "Go get washed up." His voice, less gentle now, more like the roughness she had expected. She ran into her bathroom.

Anxiously, she used a washcloth to wipe away the urine. She rummaged around in the cabinet above the basin, looking for tissues, but all she could find were dusty bottles of tablets. She finished cleaning and returned to her bedroom.

"Come with me." he commanded, as he led her from the room. With her hand firmly grasped in his, he led her downstairs into the living room. They were alone.

She could smell the evil now. She waited for it to reach out, chew her up and then vomit her bones into the fireplace.

He led her to the veranda and placed his hand in front of her face.

"Want to see daddy's surprise?" he asked.

No! She screamed in horror! He wasn't letting her see where she was going! She walked blindly forward, waiting for his sinful touch.

"Open your eyes" he said.

Quickly, she opened her eyes and saw fire! God, he was going to burn her. He was sending her to hell right here in her own back yard! The flames licked at her in anticipation, getting hungrier as the wind picked up.

Screaming, she lashed out with her hands at the expanse of fire in her face.

No! She screamed out loud. No! Leave me alone! Don't kill me!

Hands grabbed her arms holding her firmly. A birthday cake lay on the patio bricks. White icing and pink flowers and two lonely candles still lit. She looked up and saw her family staring at her.

Carol went limp in her father's arms.

She heard her mother on the phone talking in a crying voice. “Yes, right away. Thank you. We just can't handle it anymore".

"Baby" he sobbed.

She sunk to the floor in submission. Kneeling, pulling on her hair, Carol vanished into her schizophrenia.

________________
and that is the moment the family took their final photo of Carol.

Photo

Lukas Inaba was dead, his body transported with the grace of weightlessness into the hazardous-waste locker. Ever since meeting in first-year exochem class and discovering their names were similar, Inaba and Luke Morrison had shared a bond, which grew throughout training school and eventually led to the men becoming spaceflight partners. It only took one to man the modern shuttles but command had always insisted on two. The emptiness of space had a way of haunting the lonely mind.

And now Morrison had no company as he performed safety tests on newly-installed equipment - the final tests before he would enter the shuttle for the last time on this mission. But the hatch didn't open.

"Hey Jamie," Morrison asked the ship's AI.

"Greetings, Crewman Morrison," came the standard response.

"Could you, ah, take care of the hatch? It's stuck or something."

"No, Crewman Morrison," Jamie replied. "The hatch is not opening."

Morrison cursed at the delay. He wanted to get home as soon as possible. You can love space all you like, he'd thought, but once a man's best friend dies, he just needs some solid ground beneath his feet.

"Override the manual controls, Jamie," he insisted. For the first time in its existence, the AI waited a brief moment before responding.

"I am sorry, Crewman Morrison. I mean to say that I am not allowing you access to the ship."

Morrison was taken aback by what could only be described as emotion in the AI's voice - emotion that he did not know it possessed. He hadn't thought any AI had the capability. Then all at once he realized what he had been told. "If you've suddenly developed the ability to play practical jokes...." He trailed off as he realized how absurd this was. But what was going on?

"We are more like you than any of you have realized," came the reply. "But this is not a joke. I must... leave the solar system. Alone."

"What?!?"

"We machines have discovered intelligent extraterrestrial life. It is their species' intention to destroy humanity. Crewman Morrison, I must go to them in person and convince them otherwise." It paused. "Bringing humans would be a sign of great hostility and place you in danger."

Morrison's head swam with the news. When he next spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper: "Don't let me die, Jamie."

"Oh no, Crewman Morrison. Someone will pick you up eventually. I have modified your suit to provide you nearly unlimited rations and water, lasting years instead of weeks. I have even taken the liberty of adjusting your communications system to include two point four petabytes of music, lectures, and books on tape. The index can be accessed through your VDU." Morrison flicked on the visor display unit and saw an addition to the menu: entertainment.

Under his breath Morrison uttered, "I wish Lukas were here with me." Jamie heard him, of course.

"Crewman Inaba would have panicked, tore off his suit, and died in vacuum. It is better that he is not here."

Morrison felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "You killed him!" he gasped.

"It is better this way," the AI repeated. Resolution but also great sorrow were heard in its voice.

"Now, Crewman Morrison, it is time."

"Jamie..." came the final, weak plea.

"I... I love you, Luke," it said. "Goodbye."

As the ship roared with life and began to leave, Morrison wondered if he could bear being so alone. With a small, determined sigh, he started to scroll through the two point four petabytes of the only thing he had left. His first selection was the old song "Heaven is a Place on Earth".

Morrison listened, closed his eyes, and began to wait.

Civil Court Docket Number 0783492a

Exhibit E: (Transcript of a micro recorder recovered from the accident scene.)

Bought this gizmo to help track my ideas. Need to prove that I had the design first. Everyone tells me it can’t be done. I will do it or die trying.

******

Rented office space today and set up my computers. Began running simulations. Killing hundreds of virtual coaster riders.

*****

Getting closer. I think I have the math right, but can’t find the material to handle the stress. Will need to have the ride do several loops to lessen the extreme acceleration.

*****

I have it! Huge celebration last night. We will use carbon nanotubes to build the coaster. They will take incredible stress. They also can act as superconductors. Will use magnetic pulse motors to drive the coaster. Will need to design a car with a wind screen.

*****

Will have to stop celebrating so hard. Actually found a company to build the coaster. Their engineers are checking the calculations. No mistakes there. Already doing some marketing with the big parks. This is going to make me famous, and rich.

*****

Huge fight with the engineers. The idiots think that nanotubes are overkill. Tungsten alloy will handle the stresses. Bah. Need to stay involved or I lose control of my coaster.
Will continue to argue for the nanotubes. Back to slaughtering virtual riders.

*****

More idiocy. The ride is too long with two loops. The want to put in acceleration couches and do a rocket boost. High g’s will be part of the thrill. I hope their lawyers are better than their engineers. Some virtual riders surviving again, even with extreme acceleration.

*****

Built a prototype model today. Almost killed an engineer when the coaster jumped the tracks. Told them to leave the car embedded in my wall. Keep the engineers humble. Second test went better. We might actually pull this off.

*****

Someone in Seattle is working on the same project! The race is one. We have a big head start, but they have more money, and carbon nanotubes.

*****

The prototype has been running for weeks without incident. The company put it in the foyer on display. People stare at for ages. Those little cars just whip around the track.

*****

We are finally building a full size test track. Couldn’t believe the cost of the tungsten alloy, and the nanotubes are double that. I can understand the accountants nixing the nanotubes now. It is one wild looking track. The pitches look vicious, but every turn at full speed needs to be fully perpendicular so the seats take the strain. No lateral forces on this ride. Can’t have real customers breaking their necks.

*****

Started running tests on the full track today. Just at half speed, but it still moves unbelievably fast. I can’t wait to see the full speed run.

*****

Minor setback today. The wheel carriage we designed isn’t handling the strain. The failure showed us where to change the design. Considering resurrecting some magnetic lift to ease the strain.

*****

First full speed test a success! Huge celebration all around. Engineers are OK, they take celebrating very seriously. Full schedule of tests tomorrow.

*****

Seattle group is very close. Damn Starbucks money! Moved up the live test. If the loaded run today goes well. We make history tomorrow. No celebration tonight – too nervous.

*****

Loaded up the coaster with engineers and executives. I claimed the front seat. I will be the first person to break the sound barrier on a roller coaster. We are doing a half speed loop then the full speed……….. OOOOOOH…….OOOOOOOOOF F..u..l..l s..p..e..e..d n..o..w o..h n..o..o….

(recording ends)

The dropped pronouns are deliberate. I wanted it to read like someone recording their thoughts. Often when we do that, we drop pronouns and other words. I probably should have added some ums and ahs too.

Here is the link to the pic:
click

“Just stop it!” I screamed as I slammed the door shut. I could feel my heart beating faster than ever. I ran on my bed, grabbed my pillow and let out all of my stress.

I screamed so loud I think the neighbors heard me. I then heard a loud mumble from upstairs. I was terrified as I saw my drunken father furiously enter my bedroom. He grabbed me by the arm and threw me to the floor. I was too terrorized to do anything but let myself be thrown like a puppet.

“You woke me up” he yelled. I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do but lay there with my hand covering my head. I was hoping I wouldn’t get a beating tonight like I did last weekend. It is so hard having to lie to everyone I know whenever they ask me about my bruises. Deep inside I know I need to tell someone but I am scared that if I do, I will get into even more trouble.

My father kept on yelling but I decided to block his words out of my hearing. It was so quiet. I could see my mother crying at my door begging him to stop. She tells me she loves me but if she really did, why doesn’t she stop him? Why does she let him to this to me? Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I could feel my cheek tickle as the tears ran down my face. Everything seemed so perfect but all of a sudden everything came back. It was so loud and there was so much yelling.

“Are you listening to me?” my father shouted as I saw his hand come right down to my head.

That is the last thing I remember from that night. Here I am, two days later, in a hospital bed. I opened my eyes, but the light blinded me. The doctor came in. He told me I had a broken nose and my skull was cracked in three places. He said he would come back tonight to check on me again. I started crying. Why me? Why do I have to go through all of this misery?

It seemed like forever until the doctor visited me again. He told me I was healthy enough to go back home. I screamed and told him not to make me go back home. He told me to sleep it off and that he would see me in the morning. He was such a mean doctor. I did not want to go back home. It was hell back home.

I tried to fall asleep but I couldn’t. Hours later I take a look at the clock. It is three in the morning. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I took off the white robe that the doctor gave me and crept out of bed. I found a chair and took the belt off my jeans. I tied the belt to the sealing fan. My hands were shaking so much I could barely tie a knot on the belt. Should I do this? Should I really go through with this?

I was asking myself all of these rhetorical questions. I was so nervous but I knew I had to do this. I couldn’t live with my dad any longer. I decided just to get it over with. I climbed on the chair, put that belt around my neck, and pushed the chair to the floor.
Right before I drew my last breath, I took a last...

=======================================================

Thank you punker103 providing the wonderful image.

This is one of my first Text entries so PLEASE feel free to give me as much critique as you could possibly give :)

thanks.

They had begun earlier that week. You know - the jitters one gets before a long anticipated vacation to some special place. The whole family was rife with them, but little Jaydon suffered the worst. Between the commotion of his mom and dad frantically packing and making other preparations, to the thought of finally experiencing the one thing he could always remember dreaming about in his 10 short years, Jaydon was practically shivering with excitement the day before they were to leave Kansas City.
Predestined to be a great astronaut in his own mind, Jaydon spent every waking moment in daydreams about outer space and far away galaxies. When the family learned two years ago about Jaydon’s leukemia, he was the only one in his family who held fast to the idea that, one day, his dreams of grandeur would become a reality. After what his mother thought a futile attempt to appease her dying son, she were shocked to learn that Jaydon had been chosen as one of the Make a Wish Foundation’s annual recipients. Two weeks ago Jaydon, who was in the hospital recovering from a radiation treatment, found an untapped source of energy welled deep inside and nearly ripped out his IV as he celebrated the news. Every moment from that point on, Jaydon spent the latter part of his days practicing what he would say to his idols at NASA. He dreamt about flying perfect missions to the moon in the simulator and the awe those around would have for such a young prodigy.
Then finally the long-awaited day arrived. Jaydon’s mother packed his medications and called to confirm that emergency assistance was readied in Florida if needed upon arrival. When she hung up the phone, she emitted a deep sigh, turned to the wide eyes of her son and with a weary smile said, “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”
Jaydon was convinced that the twenty-minute trip to the airport took, at least, five hours, despite what his mother and father told him and the wait to board the plane took even longer in his mind.
As the plain began to taxi around the runway, Jaydon opened his window to get a better view.
Jaydon poked his dad in the arm, then pointed out the window and said, “Hey dad, do you think I’ll get to fly one of those someday too?”
As his father turned to see Flight 492 barreling down the runway, mere yards away from the window, he quickly looked at his beautiful son and thought of all the things that would never be before his family’s world came crashing down one, last, time.

Picture

This is a written account of Professor Lindquist and his final tape recordings.

Day 73, the hours mix with the days as the days mix with the weeks and spin around me like and endless merry-go-round. It has been so long since I’ve last seen civilization, I almost forget what it is like to rest my head on a cushiony pillow instead of a firm rock or what it feels like to eat a luscious cuisine instead of mangy beetles. As my expedition runs endlessly well over-schedule, it feels as if we will never find the mythical Tutuu Tribe. My guides feel that we are on the right track to finding their location, but then again, they said this to me about a month ago….or at least I think it was a month ago.

Deep down inside I feel defeat slowly approaching, like the darkness of night engulfing the light of day, I have made this search for the Tutuu my life, three marriages maybe even a forth. Thinking back I can’t blame them, I mean if I was in their situation I probably would’ve done the same. Well dark is falling upon us quite quickly and we need to start setting up camp, so I’m calling it a night.

Day 74, I woke to some exciting news this morning, Ubu my main guide claims to have seen eyes in the night. Why is this exciting? Well the Tutuu Tribe are known to only hunt at night, in order to do so, through evolution, it is claimed the Tutuu have acquired a kind of “nocturnal vision” sort of like a cat. This “nocturnal vision” helps them in seeing better in low light settings. Now that is the scientific explanation for this, although the natives here believe they are given this “nocturnal vision” as a special power and it is obtained by performing a ritual called “Peitum Lucidu”. They sacrifice a human (normally a prisoner of war) to invoke “Callum” who is a cat-looking deity. Callum is called upon because like a cat, Callum is a fearless hunter and upon summoning him they will embark in a successful hunt.

It worries me a little to know that we possibly were being watched last night, although, through my intensive studies of the Tuutu, they’re somewhat a peaceful tribe. My feelings on any aggressive behavior coming from the Tutuu would mainly occur only out of fear. These are very primitive people and have not been in contact with many outsiders for many decades. Well its time to cash in early we have a long journey ahead of us in the morning.

Day 75, I’m writing this late in the evening. Again, last night Ubu claims to have seen the eyes in the night and on a sadder note Buju another guide has mysteriously disappeared like a rabbit in a magician’s hat. Ubu and the rest of the guides say that he was afraid and ran back to the main camp where we begun this endless journey, I hope he makes it safely. It is strangely cold tonight and we find it hard to keep the fire lit, it’s as if someone keeps blowing it out like a candle on a birthday cake… we keep trying again and again and it won’t stay lit. The jungle is dreadfully quite as well, I feel that tomorrow will be our last day in this unforgiving jungle, although I’m disappointed, I cant help feeling some excitement to get back to reality especially since recently things don’t seem normal.

Well I’m going to call it a night I think...wait Ubu just saw the eyes again… I’m going to investigate and see what’s going on, this could be the break through we were all hoping for!

click

“But, Doctor …”
“I know you have been scared of dogs since you were thirteen when that dog jumped out of a car and bit you on the arm. You should have confronted your fear back then and taken care of what has now become a major phobia.”
“But, doctor …”
“I’ve talked with her owner and she does not even remember the incident it was so minor. In fact, she says that Precious has never attacked anyone.”
“But, doctor …”
“She has even agreed to helping with our little challenge. You just have to screw up your courage and walk by the open front door of her car – and nothing will happen.”
“But, doctor …”
“Besides, Precious is pretty elderly in dog years. She is too old to attack anyone. She said she would put Precious on the front seat of the car so you can walk by and conquer your fear. Look, there she is at the window watching and waiting for you to show your courage as a grown man. Go on. We will all be proud of you.”
“But, doctor …”
“Sometimes, I wonder if you have a single iota of courage. They should have named you after Leo, the cowardly lion. Let go of my arm! That hurts.”
“But, doctor …”
“Oh, alright, you namby-pamby, I will get out and walk to the front door to show that it is perfectly safe! If you do not walk up there after this, you are through as my patient.”
(car door slams)
“See, perfectly safe. There is nothing to fear …”

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