Slowly placing the tatty, thick rope around his neck, and pulling it nice and tight. He looks around the admirable forest, the beautiful undergrowth, the shadowing of the trees and the peaking sunlight one last time. He could hear every strong, alcohol fumed breath he took, loud and crisp in his ears and the chirping from the nesting birds. His mysterious brown eyes focusing on the beautiful, extraordinary butterflies and dragonflies that flew past him, buzzing around his head, making his muscular frame feel as light as they are. There's howling wolves in the distance, at this point he feels grounded, part of the earth, at one with nature, no more emotion was left inside him, the only way he wanted to be part of nature was to be food for the crawling critters below.
He is a broken soul, no family to love or be loved by, he is just pointlessly wondering around in circles, not getting anywhere. Nobody wants to be friends with a lonely, gambling drunk. He's gambled away all his inheritance and any winning's he did get went straight on whisky and ale. Everyone wants to feel that they have a place in this world, to be part of some sort of team. But gambling drunks never end up having anything left, they lose of sense of control, therefore end up losing any special people or friendships they may have made, leaving him completely alone. And once everything has gone, what is the point in living?
His arms open slowly, the warm sun beaming on his back, creates a shadow of a grand bird on the fallen leafs below. Like an eagle which is funny since throughout the ages they have represented spiritual protection, I am very sure the last thing this man deserved was protection. Such a strong bird that can pick out its prey from miles in the sky and yet the man creating this shadow is nothing but wimp, a wounded, lost animal hiding from its prey in the shadows of his soul. The young man closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as he counts backwards from ten.
He was really doing this, the countdown to the end of his life was here and drawing swiftly to an end. He found the first half of the countdown easy, it went so fast, but the last few numbers got harder to count.
As he gets to four he's having second thoughts, should this really be the way to go, to just quit, the cheats way out. Mind you he cheated in poker for most of his life, so this can't really be much of an excuse. Three, with his eyes closed it's almost like the tree is spinning, making him feel unsteady and sick to his stomach, his body tingling in fear of the unknown. His heart is pounding almost as if it's begging him not to do this. With his bottom lip trembling, legs shacking, almost as if they were made out of jelly, he counts down to two. But did he really want to do this, or is his silence screaming out for someone to hear him, rescue him, and tell him everything is going to be okay.
His body shaking like a leaf, legs like jelly, trembling lip. Millions of thoughts running through his head, the branch might snap, the rope might snap. Eyes squeezed shut, the world spinning in front of him, squawking from the birds, howling from the wolves, buzzing from the critters, rustling from the trees and animals, all these sounds getting louder and louder. He can feel himself spinning faster and faster, getting sicker and sicker, knees wobbling and getting weaker and weaker. His breathing getting faster and faster, deeper and stronger, body shaking, he had lost complete control. And then all of a sudden an unexpected stillness and silence comes to him.
With a gulp he whispers "goodbye" eyes squeezed shut, fists clenched, body tensed, and his heart beating harder and faster. He then slowly begins to lean forward…