Chasing Tears Down a Cliffside
by: michael g.
The day was without a cloud in the sky, one wouldn't think I was here, planning my own suicide inch by inch. People tell me it's just a desperate cry for help, but no, it's too late for that. My cries for help were long ago, more like shouts that went unheard.
I walked down the road slowly, counting the steps. The sun was shining down on me, but the air was crisp and cool, because just beyond the road ahead was the coastline which could only be touched after a steep 600 foot drop. Yeah, that was my dream. Falling down that cliff, maybe landing on some jagged rocks, whichever made the bolder statement.
There was a right turn a few feet ahead of me, and on the outside of that road was a guardrail protecting life-appreciative citizens from pummeling down the side of the cliff in their cars. I could just as easily climb over the guardrail and jump off the cliff, but that ain't my style.
I wanted to die what I loved doing: driving. I wanted to drive off of the cliff, but the fucking guard rail was in the way.
Perhaps I could rent a power saw and somehow cut through the guard rail and make a notch big enough for my car to drive through, if I aimed it right...no, cutting through that kind of metal takes too long and makes a lot of sparks. Every so often, cars pass through these roads and eventually someone would see me and call the police. There had to be another way.
The wooden support posts! The little wooden support posts that hold up the guard rail; there's only one every ten feet or so. It's far quicker to use the power saw on wood than metal. Yeah, I could go rent or borrow someone's power saw, or maybe chain saw, and cut through the wooden posts to remove the guard rail, get in my car and kill the gas pedal with my foot, then myself in consequence. Then I'd go sailing in the sky with my car. Yeah, that would be an amazing feeling. Floating through the air in my car, the front end dipping down first since most of the weight is in the engine compartment.
You see, I was in love at a time. Then God had the selfishness to take her into His kingdom, away from me. So I need to see her again. I can't go on in this life of mine without her. It's fucking useless describing how much I want to see her again. No, I'll show them how much I need her. I'll carve my suicide note into the trunk lid with a sharp rock. Hopefully the sea mold, or whatever it's called, won't cover up the message, because I filled the trunk with enough sand that I'd sink straight to the bottom.
Depending on how fast I drove, either I'd land in the ocean or on the beach. I'm sort of preferring the ocean; it's much more romantic to die in the sea, amongst all the plankton and fish, and them not having any idea what is taking place before them. Also, the police would probably never find my car. Or if they did, they'd notice the guard rail and do all this investigation shit trying to figure out the speed and trajectory of my car, estimating where in the ocean it must've landed, resulting in many man hours spent trying to find my car. At least that means I got my fucking tax dollars' worth before I died.
But none of that even matters anymore, because all I need to do is put the car in gear and take off. Into the sky. Landing, hopefully, in the ocean. Probably I'll die of shock before I even hit the water, but if I don't, the impact would kill me. Yeah, that would be beautiful.
Fucking public transportation, why couldn't that bus see you? Why couldn't the stoplights have worked that day? If only the city had a traffic director out there, that fucking bus wouldn't have hit you and I wouldn't be here, and instead I'd be lying on the sofa with you in my arms. But no, that's not the case. People want me to be optimistic? Fine. I won't think about what could've been. I'll think about what can be. And I can be where you are right now, all it takes is a little effort on my part. I'll be with you soon. They'll see. Cancer couldn't keep us apart. Neither can death. They'll see.
And the last sound I planned on hearing was the screeching of tires from when I mashed the gas pedal to the floor.
Then a station wagon came from the opposite direction, from around the corner. I hit their car and because there was no guard rail, the station wagon fell over the cliff, but the impact stopped my car from falling down the cliff with theirs.
You see, I was in a convertible at the time, and I had the top down in order to best experience the sensation of flying. And well, as my car settled from the impact, the right front wheel was just over the cliff's edge. I could hear the children's screams echoing amongst the cliffs. I guess their parents must've been in shock during the fall, just as I should have been, because I couldn't hear their screams.
And the children's screams continued for what seemed like seven seconds, but when you do the math, it couldn't have been that long. Finally, I heard the sound of the car's metal slamming and twisting itself around the rocks on the beach, and the only sign of life from the occupants of the car were the echoes of their screams from just seconds in the past when the car was still falling.
And I got out of my car, looked over the cliff, and could barely identify the white station wagon strewn across the rocks. But their plastic rear bumper, the place where I must've hit them, was seperated from the car and laid next to me on the road, and on the bumper was a series of stickers, one in particular saying, "We Are the Proud Parents of an Honor Student at Rosemayer Middle".
And you see, that's my story. I didn't mean for any of it to happen, only I was supposed to die. I still wanted to drive off of the cliff after I realized what I'd done, but cars have a fuel cut-off switch where, in a serious accident, fuel to the engine is automatically cut off and my car wouldn't start. I couldn't find the switch to turn the fuel delivery system back on. So I was stuck there.
I decided to jump instead. So I edged my feet towards the cliff's edge. Now that I'd killed an entire family because of my own selfishness, it didn't appear that I would be able to be with my love anymore. I was destined for Hell. God must not want us to be together, because no matter how hard I try, even risking death to be with you, he won't let me. I looked down at my shoes, and when I moved my eyes millimeters above my toes I could see the destruction I'd caused, the car parts sprawled across the beach, the metallic underlyings of their station wagon now just a mosaic of death.
I started to lean forward. Even if I couldn't be with my love, I was going to be in the same state of being, so that I could be, in some abstract way, closer to her. I spread apart my arms apart and closed my eyes as if I were trying to fly, and all I could think about was how much this position reminded me of Jesus on the cross.
A tear fell from my face, down my cheek, falling down the cliff to the accident below. Then another. Then one more tear, which I chased down the cliffside.
I remember hearing the wind rushing past my ears and some seagulls squawking as my body fell past them. The air was pushing through my shirt, ruffling the cuffs of my pant leg.
And with my eyes closed, I fell so gracefully, musically, down, down, further. I fell past the regret, the sorrow, the disappointment and unmet expectations. All of that stayed on top of the cliff with my car that wonderful day.
I confess I peeked just before I hit the ground, and the last thing I saw was the top of the cliff, not the ground. I inadvertently flipped in midair so that I was facing the cliffside and my back would hit the ground first. And at the very top, I could see a little speck of a woman, peering over the cliff, down at the accident scene and just before I hit, I saw her place her hands over her mouth in horror as she noticed the unfortunate man falling to the ground.
I turned my head to the ground to see where I was going to hit, when I saw a series of big black rocks, one of them wet from two tiny teardrops. And the last thing I heard was my third teardrop hitting the surface of that rock.
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©2001 -mg-
