Another Day to Die
Johnny awoke from his world of sleep. Another day to be alive. But for what? Another day at work to be harassed by the same boss and coworkers? Another night spent alone for dinner? A few hours of watching television to waste away the passing hours of his life? A few minutes in the shower to wash a body that had no purpose? Then back to the same bed to start the exasperating routine all over again? No, Johnny thought. What’s the point?
He thought about all the ways to end his painful, empty existence. Pills and alcohol. A gunshot to the head. A razor blade against the wrist. Jumping off a building. With so many choices he couldn’t decide.
What was this game of life all about? Johnny knew that he was a player and life was the game, but he felt he missed getting directions on how to play. And what did you have to do to win? And what did you win? He was overwhelmed by it all. Johnny rubbed his forehead. He couldn’t make any sense of it.
He came to the dark conclusion that he was a mere pile of nothing. A pile of nothing that no one would miss. Life to Johnny was like a sickly spinning merry-go-round, constantly jerking him up and down and moving him in the same monotonous circle with no real direction, no purpose. All he wanted to do was stop the nauseating ride and get off.
Permanently.
He needed to end the pain inside his head. Life just hurt too much.
He remembered Charlie, a friend of his. A friend of his that owned a gun.
Johnny watched Charlie remove the black revolver from under his mattress. He rubbed the smooth black metal with his fingers as Charlie held it.
“Is it loaded?” Johnny asked.
“Never know when you’re going to need it.”
Johnny smiled. “Right, right.” His eyes glazed. “You never know.”
Charlie slid the gun back under the mattress.
“You want a beer?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah.”
When Charlie left the room, Johnny knew what he had to do. He pulled the black revolver out from under the mattress and slid it inside his coat pocket. It was the only way to do it. He wanted to exit the house, exit everything, exit himself.
A moment later, Charlie entered the room and handed the beer to Johnny.
He quickly guzzled it down. “Sorry, but I gotta go.”
At dusk, Johnny started back to his same old house in the same old direction.
He waited at a traffic light with a lady and her young son. Suddenly, the boy ran out into the intersection before the light turned green.
Johnny saw a speeding Camaro approaching, and quickly darted out into the road, grabbed the boy’s shirt and yanked him back onto the sidewalk.
Then the woman approached him.
“I don’t know how to thank you for saving my son,” she said. Then she walked away.
As he stood there, he experienced an epiphany that revealed to him that his body, mind and being had a purpose. He had saved a boy’s life. The woman’s voice confirmed it.
Johnny’s view of life had dramatically changed in just a few seconds. He no longer felt the pain inside his head, the sickly merry-go-round of life had vanished, and he no longer felt like a pile of nothingness.
He remembered Charlie’s gun.
Johnny’s new purpose now was to preserve life, not to end it. He smiled about his new feelings, his new beginning.
He had to bring back Charlie’s gun. Now.
He walked back, feeling for the gun inside his coat pocket. He suddenly stopped. There was no gun to be found. He frantically searched his clothing. Every pocket, every opening.
Johnny twirled around as a voice yelled out to him.
“Hey, mister, did you drop this?”
The echo of a fired bullet pierced the silent night air.
