A Little Morbid

A series of unrelated, super short pieces on death. I'm not always this morbid and creepy, but this is just the way it turned out, I guess.

You've been warned - they are super short.


4. death by suicide

The girl walked briskly through the bustling streets. No one noticed her. No one knew her, or what she was going to do. She didn’t notice them either. She walked through four lanes of traffic, ignoring honks of cars and loud protests with a stony expression. She didn’t care. Her legs took her to the pedestrian strip of the bridge, and she looked out to the water.

Her phone rang in her pocket. She picked up, and listened.

“I can see you – what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She knew who it was, and hurled the phone into the black depths below, turning to see an uneasy face watching her form the café she had stormed out of.

Eyes filling with tears, she took off her coat with trembling fingers and let it drop to the ground, much to the delight of a homeless man standing nearby. His beady eyes stared at the coat, and back to the woman who glanced once more at the man who was staring at her in shock.

She turned, stepped up onto the metal fence of the bridge, and jumped.

And fell.

And died.

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