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Cardinal Sin-
There are worse things in life than death…

1. Touch me, now, Susie baby
As he sat at the train station, he wondered what he’d say, what he’d do…
I’m gonna love you till the stars fall from the sky…
He tried to think, he strained, he struggled for a single thought; an escape plan that might save him from this mess; but nothing came…
For you and I…
That song just kept repeating in his head, again and again. Not that he was bored or annoyed at it, but he needed to think right now…
I’m gonna…
He shook his head violently to muffle the music. He could think again.

He presented himself with the facts: she’d be coming in an hour, from London, tens of thousands of miles away… for him. Or more correctly, the him he had invented for her. To her, he was a 23-year-old disc jockey who plays lead in ‘The Soft Parody’, a cover band for ‘The Doors’, in his spare time; he drives a revved-up V8 Holden, he lives alone, he has long black hair, startling blue eyes and a tan, he has a good build because he works out a lot and he writes love letters to his overseas sweetheart when he gets the time. But in truth, he was the sixteen-year-old student from Geelong College who didn’t even manage to get the role of the tree in the school play after preparing for the audition two weeks in advance. He was the adolescent who didn’t know how to drive a car and would only learn so he could chauffeur his drunk “mates” home from a party. He was the kid with the scruffy brown hair, the plain brown eyes, the pasty complexion and the scrawny physique. He couldn’t even whistle and he spent every waking moment preparing those sonnets that he bled his heart and soul into so that at least one person would love him, even if she lived on the other side of the world.

Come on, Come on, Come on, now…
Damn it! He lost his train of thought again. Why did this shit always happen to him? In the middle of his maths exam, he started humming the tune to Wild Child, sending himself (let alone everyone else) completely insane and causing him to fail miserably but when it came to his audition for the choir after school he couldn’t even remember the words…
What was that promise that you made…

He met Susie in an internet chat room, the place he spent most of his nights, at about two in the morning. Everything just seemed to go right, a rare occurrence for him. She asked him to write because she was moving to Ireland for a year (God forbid they use computers there), and after that they just liked it that way. He said he loved her after two years of frustrating innuendo. She didn’t write for three months. He almost killed himself. She wrote back saying that she loved him too and wanted to meet him. He said he didn’t have enough money. She said her parents were rich and she could move into the city with him. He said it sucked in Australia. She said it didn’t matter. He tried to stop her. She said she’d meet him at Spencer St. Station at 3:00pm. She was travelling across the world for him and she didn’t even know what he actually looked like. He was scared.

Don’t you know that I am not afraid…
He had lost the plot completely. He began pacing to and fro franticly down the platform. People looked at him. He didn’t care. He needed an answer…
I’m gonna love you till the stars fall from the sky…

He calmed himself and sat down to contemplate his situation rationally. He could just tell her the truth, she’d be pissed off but she’d understand. She was a cool chick; she might even still move in with him. Well, he could move in with her. Surely she didn’t just want him for his car or his band. Hell, she had come all the way from England for him. She was serious about this, very serious.

Come on, Come on, Come on, now…
What the fuck was he thinking!!! He couldn’t move in with her. How would they survive? How would he get to school? What would his parents think? What would he say to her? Fuck!!! What would he do??? He needed an answer, fast…
I’m…

He stood again and started running for the exit. He needed to get out of there. He didn’t care about her. He never had to see her again. Or talk to her. Or write to her…

Now, I’m gonna love you till the Heavens stop the rain…
What was he thinking?!? He couldn’t just leave her. He stopped. He couldn’t breathe. He grasped for air. He clung to a rail. Clutched his chest. Began to weep in agony. He couldn’t take it. The pain was unbearable. He saw the train coming and he threw himself onto the tracks…
Come on, Come on, Come on, now, Touch me, baby!
Can’t you see that I am not afraid,
What was that promise that you made?
Now, I’m gonna love you till the Heavens stop the rain…

As she sat on the train, she wondered what she’d say, what she’d do. He thought she was 21, an actress for Christ sakes! She didn’t even give him a real photograph. She was scared…

Yes, I’m gonna love you till the stars fall from the sky,
For you and I…
For you and I

2. A memory without emotion, a life never lived.

Memories? I can pluck a few from my mind at will, toss them around for a bit and drop them back into the dark abyss that holds so many of my faded memoirs, loosely based on a reality that I never quite experienced. The horrid secrets that I hid away in that vault of subconsciousness to fester and rot have now been revealed. Someone found the key and unlocked the door to that sacred place: the dark room that should never be entered, the twisted painting that should never be seen, the malicious spirit that should never be unleashed.

I don’t remember what triggered it, a harsh word, a threatening stare. But now I sit, surrounded by a mass of bloody corpses, some I knew and some I knew less, contemplating past experiences in a deck chair I found when I was twelve, in a dumpster up the road. I drop my semi-automatic firearm, such a simple device that can change so much, and I drift back into nostalgia.

The tune to a crappy Nintendo game hums in the back of my mind as I recall the many insignificant stories my life has to offer. The filling that fell out of my mouth when I was nine, causing agonising toothache for a whole week until I visited the dentist who replaced it with another faulty, metal clump that fell out later in spring. The broken arm I copped from that brutish soccer coach in my first week of secondary school after I concussed his star striker with a pair of footy boots in a fit of rage. The pretty, young blonde girl from Sienna who I had sex with and later dumped in my first year of university because I was too drunk to care.

But these, as with all of my memories, are recollected with a sense of indifference, brought about by the incessant droning of that diabolical machine that once gave me enjoyment but now only serves to dull my senses and deconstruct my creative thought patterns. The computer has created a generation devoid of insight or imagination. Capable of only the simplest tasks, we wonder the earth with a laptop under our right arms, trying to figure out how we got here and what to do. Drugs, war, disease and famine are nothing compared to the atrocities that artificial life hath borne unto man. It hath borne us apathy, and apathy is worse than death.

Now as the playful tune of Mario Bros. transforms into the inevitable sound of police sirens and my impending doom, I start to wonder if my life was worthless. I never really achieved anything but I really have no regrets. Maybe that in itself is my sole regret.

I rise from my plastic throne, retrieve and reload my royal sceptre, gaze upon my bullet-ridden subjects and wave my magic wand. Take me far away from this dull little ball of dirt. Take me to a place where I can finally embark upon the adventures I so wished, where I can fight the battles that never existed and where I can finally be at ease with my frail, pathetic self. Take me away.

3. He Flies
Jacob stood on the edge. He knew, yes he knew he could do it!
What happens if it doesn't work? What if he fell? He would die. He would die!!!
No thought for that, he said to himself, no thought for failure, no thought for the future. Only the present, only this moment, only this...
He stepped back from the edge. This is insanity!
It would seem that way to others. But no, it is the only way, it is the only truth, I can do it!!! He took another step back.
He thought: How can I do this to my family, to my friends, to Sarah, what about Sarah? What about Sarah??? She didn't care. Of course she did, you're being melodramatic, unrealistic. People care about you. That's not why I'm doing this. He didn't really know why he was doing this. Yes, he knew exactly why he was doing this.
Ever since he was a little boy, he knew he was different. There was something about him, the basketball ring, the broken window, Matthew's place. His mind was flooded with occasions that confirmed his beliefs.
You're better, you're special, you'll show them all someday! That's what his mother used to say. She wouldn't understand this; she would cry, and cry, and cry. He could already see her eyes swelling with tears, her cheeks stained with raw love and grief. He took another step back.
That was it, I can't do it, it's not right. It didn't matter. He knew he had to do it, nothing could stop him now; he was so close. But Mum will cry; she doesn't deserve this!
He started tracing his steps carefully back to the trees. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the faint colours of the picnic through the bushes. I'm safe there, I'll go back.
He turned away from the edge. That was close; I almost thought I was going to jump for a second there! He chuckled to himself and then stopped. That wasn't funny, that was strange; that was scary; that was wrong!
He felt something grow inside of his chest now. It's happening again, I can't fight it, it has already begun and it’s already ended. There was no turning back, I can fight it!
He sprang off one foot and found himself running towards the picnic, past the picnic, through the woods, into the clearing. He stopped. Thank God!
Just needed a good run, everything's...alright-now...I'm-calm...gotta...catch-my...breath.
Zenith. It began to burn; everything hurt, everything ached. Nothing felt right. It's alright, everything's in its right place. I CAN!!!
He bolted towards the edge, as fast as his poor little legs could take him. I can't do this, stop running, this is going to kill me... NO!!!
They're killing me!!! I'm saving myself! The pain ends here, no more suffering. This isn't the end it's only the beginning. Any other cliché that could come to mind flashed through his head. It seemed wrong; it seemed insane. But not everything is as it seems; nothing is as it seems, as nothing seems it is. Everything is right, I can feel it.
He approached the earthy horizon at a torrential speed. Before he knew it he was in the air. I'm already dead.
But no, am I flying? Was I right?
Does it matter?
HA HA, I'M FLYING!!!!
I feel so alive!!!
---------------------------------------He Falls-----------------------------------------

4. Maybe Yesterday
The light spills onto the streets as I step out on this crisp Monday morning. I check my watch and it is little after six. I remember an article I read once about depression. Apparently early-morning rising is the first sign of clinical depression. I guess it’s true. My eyes survey the winter-stricken neighbourhood, an old Asian lady takes in her empty rubbish bin, a crow nibbles at some spilt garbage, nothing much else happens. Somehow I find myself heading down towards the shops may as well buy the newspaper and get some breakfast before my first lecture. Today, I will pay attention, work hard and start the long and arduous journey towards not failing my course. Today, I will ring my parents and tell them I'm fine. Today, I'll fix the washing machine. Today, I'm gonna do a lot of things.

When I think about it realistically, it's probably better that she told me. I was just clinging onto a false hope. She never did love me, at least, not like that. So I suppose it's better this way. I pass the supermarket and enter the newsagent. I pick up the paper and toss it on the counter. The man behind the counter seems sad, and empty in a way. He looks like he has had his joy, his passion for life sucked out of him with a straw. Now he’s just another soulless drone, going about his daily life, thinking only about the most basic tasks he has to complete in order to survive and no have to face the tremendous burden of his broken mental state. Despite my empathy for this man, I feel selfishly glad; I was once like that too, but not anymore.

I sit at a stool facing the window whilst I eat my breakfast so that I can watch the passersby on the street. They all seem either preoccupied or aimless. None of them seem truly content, not that I am, but at least I'm getting better. I can feel my life reforming even now as I sit sipping my coffee. It's not quite the same as before. Of course, it'll never be the same as before, but it's alright. I think about calling some of my old friends, for just a moment. I suppose I should just learn to do without for a bit. After all they've been through, I wouldn't want to force myself back into their lives again. It would be too awkward. I sit and wonder about my old life, before Angie. It was good, probably better than after but I'm still glad that I met her. Despite all the pain, all the emotional torment she put me through, or possibly because of this, I've been able to grow into the adult that I never thought I'd be. She broke my naïve, little heart and now I've put it back together with nice big scar I can show the kids one day. I guess now I’m just a little more self-assured. I'm no longer the anxious, eager child I once was. I’m not as self-conscious, self-obsessed I should say. I don't long for companionship like it's some sort of drug. I don’t cry. And I don’t think about dying. Maybe yesterday, but not today.

I finish my coffee and head back home; it feels warm in my belly, shielding me from the bitter cold. The sun shines brightly in the morning sky.
This’ll be a good day, I just know it.

5. The Shore of the Yangtze River
When I die, they'll lay my body on a raft and send it out from the shore of the Yangtze River.
It will float downstream, where the river rises up like a stairway to heaven and I will plead to my creator for one final chance to ease my lover's pain.
Everything inside me; thoughts, memories, feelings; will drain into the river and enrich the soil at the river's edge with whatever’s left of my misdirected goodwill.
New trees will spring to life on these banks, flourishing with optimism and blossoming with so many beautiful experiences passed.
With wisdom, they will grow and bear wonderful fruits as the reward for mischievous youngsters who venture so close to the surging waters.
Worms, grubs and insects will thrive in the rich soil and be snatched up by watchful river-birds, whisking them away to feed their crying offspring.
And these chicks, too, will grow up to soar across the blazing skies, only to land on the plate of a foolhardy tourist willing to try his luck on local cuisine.
Swollen-bellied, he will wander down to the river's edge, guided by some long-forgotten memory and unrealised urge, and he will see you there, on the shore of the Yangtze Rive, mourning your loved one, and he will wonder where he knows you from.
Unable to place your cute little nose, your peach lips, your tear-filled blue eyes, he'll step boldly down onto the bank and offer to console you in your misery under the shade of our favourite willow.
Shocked by this stranger's kindness, your sorrows will be lifted and I will be forever grateful for the final gift he let me give to you as I float to the afterlife from the shore of the Yangtze River.

There are worse things in life than death…
But there is nothing worse than dying alone.

The End