Depression Short Stories

What others can't see.

Quinn hated theme parks. I mean he used to enjoy them before he got the sight, and he remembers the days when his parents were happily married and they tugged an excitable young boy along to the merry-go-round -and who adamantly decided he was going to ride the absurdly coloured chicken instead of one of the majestic horses. Now, tonight as his little sister tugged on the hand of his worn-down mother to the same ride, Quinn couldn't settle his stomach. He felt a constant wave of nausea worse than the trembling feeling of Deja vu in 'Final Destination'.

The whole park in itself gave Quinn the shivers and not even due to a general dislike. You see he saw things that others couldn't, the reality of the world that mere human minds could not comprehend. It wasn't noticeable at first, but he knew it happened after his parent's traumatic divorce. His mind snapped back to reality. Where other people saw the bright lights and fluorescent colours, he saw flickers, lights that popped, engulfing the worn down, peeling paint on the rides in darkness. Where others heard the excited squeals around the park and smelled a constant stream of sugar, he heard deafening silence, lightly littered with fearful cries, and he smelt the pungent scent of meat as he inhaled. It was a never-ending torment- and he had long ago stopped trying to tell what he saw- he had multiple appointments at crazy doctors and nights in the psychiatric ward to thank for that.

Unlike his younger self, his little sister had decided to sit on the back of the largest horse, a vast, towering feather sticking up from its head. He stood by his mother, leaning on the railing, and watched as his little sister's wide smile disappeared around the bend as the ride moved. His mother reached for his hand. He buried them deep into his pockets. He watched from the corner of his eye as his mother's plastered smile fell, a deep sigh leaving her lips. She waved and happily beamed as his little sister came back around.

Another turn.

The majestic horse bobbed up and down to the warped carnival music, yet his sister wasn't there, she wasn't smiling excitedly like the past two turns. His mother screamed her name, her eyes widened in alarm but Quinn didn't wait. He bolted. He ran, the thunderous, cackling laughter smashing down on his eardrums. The people he pushed past, their faces distorted, a facade, into clowns sneering and manically laughing down at him. Everything was grey and a pale mist swirled at his feet, making him unsure of where he stepped.

He followed the sound, the sound of the laughing, to a row of tents on the outskirts of the park. one by one the curtains opened, the contents inside concealed in darkness. The final tent, the smallest of them remained closed. Quinn settled his racing breath and pounding heart and walked closer. The laughter stopped. With bated breath he pulled open the curtain, walking into the darkness. He stepped on something wet and slightly sticky. a dingy light flashed on above him.

All he could see was red. A scream ripped from his throat, heartbroken and pained. He ran to the small body lying dormant in the middle of the room, crying. He gripped her small frame, blood soaking into his clothes, onto his skin, in his hair, it was everywhere. His mother walked in. She breathed a sigh of relief, picking up the small girl and leading her out- oblivious to the bloody massacre around her.

Quinn sat, in a daze, shaking, tears streaming down his crimson cheeks. He watched as blank, lifeless eyes stared drunkenly at him, unseeing.

"Really Quinn... Why are you crying? Come on, let's go. Now!"

He realised now. His gift- his curse.

His sister's physical form didn't die- but her soul had been murdered.