Beyond the City Lights

Chapter 7

Silvery clouds laid over vibrant stars like a blanket, with the touch of a white crescent moon to give the night the feel of a Van Gogh painting.

The man stared at the serene night sky and couldn't help but wonder what sort of Gods lived among the stars.

Over the past couple nights he'd felt like a God. Controlling life. Deciding who lived and who died. He knew it wouldn't last though, and that depressed him.

The man had a mess of emotions going on in his head as he wandered the city streets on foot. He had no particular destination in mind, just wanted to feel the cool night air brushing against his face. He wanted to feel the high of weighing a life between his hands deciding whether or not to take it. Total control, but he knew he shouldn't push his luck. Tonight he would take a break from the killing.

Like an alcoholic tempted by friends socially drinking at a party, the man was tempted by the luring dark alleys throughout the city and the strangers who wandered those dark alleys. Opportunity presenting itself around every corner. Yet, the man suppressed his urges and kept walking. An addict denying himself the pleasures of his addiction.

He walked aimlessly until he found himself in a bar and grill named The Hungry Dog. It was sports themed and decorated with flat screen TVs on every wall that were broadcasting quite the array of sports.

As the man found a seat at the bar a young brunette woman with large hoop earrings, a tightly pulled back pony tail, and a black shirt that complemented her curves nicely, laid down a menu and asked, "What will you be drinking tonight, hun?"

"Jack Daniels on the rocks would be fine," the man answered.

The woman produced a glass from underneath the bar, shoveled in some ice, and quickly but delicately filled it with the
Tennessee whiskey. When she was done she slid it across the table where it stopped just in front of the man. Not a drop spilled. A master of her craft. The man respected that.

He nodded a thank you to the woman and tipped back the glass. The whiskey felt warm in his belly, a pleasant feeling. He polished off the drink quickly and signaled to the pretty bartender for another. It was a night where he would dull the thoughts of worry and anxiety through the use of a bottle.

He picked up the menu filled with mouth watering images of food and looked for a meal to accompany his drink.

The grill's steaks were heavily advertised throughout the menu, so the gentleman went with a medium rare Filet Mignon.

While he waited for his food the man watched two large men strike each other in the face on the television. He'd always been a fan of fighting as a sport. Even though he didn't know a lot of the young fighters anymore, he still enjoyed watching the brutality, the blood, the rage. All the things he felt inside himself displayed on the television, considered a sport even, and people paid to watch the madness. That made him smile.

The woman returned with a warm plate that had his steak and some thick cut fries on it. He popped a fry into his mouth and instantly regretted it as it burned his taste buds. Now he'd be lucky to even taste his meal. To relieve some of the pain he washed the fry down with yet more whiskey.

His head was beginning to feel a little foggy and his vision slightly blurred, but he carried on drinking. One after another until his food was gone.

When it was time to leave, the man tipped the bartender rather favorably and hit the city streets once again on foot.

It remained a clear night with cloudy skies, bright stars, and a warming moon. The man walked and walked with no purpose. No destination in mind. Just walked. The alcohol warmed him from the inside and it felt nice to be outside. Enjoying the evening.

Subconsciously the man's drunken feet, far from a straight path, led him to the place where it all nearly ended. The same place where his new purpose began.

Under the light of the moon the man was able to see all the way to where the water streamed over jagged rocks below.

Sky View Bridge stood empty of people, except for the drunken man. The man who befriended death. Welcomed it at any given moment and decided it for others.

There was no rain tonight. Just a man and his thoughts, which were muddled from the alcohol. He stood, once again, at the edge of the bridge. Right at death's door, ready to cross the threshold of this life into whatever lay after it.

His body felt light, as if the only thing keeping him from falling was the cool evening breeze. A light gust of wind keeping him delicately on the edge of the bridge.

In his drunken state his feet were clumsy, but in the moment they stayed still; anchoring the man to this world.

A nagging voice, similar to a devil on the shoulder, demanded he step off; demanded he jump, head first into the abyss of death and darkness below.

Temptation swirled around in his head and the man felt himself leaning forward. Temping the gust of wind to let him go. Let him be free.

In that moment, right before death, his body filled with a feeling of pure ecstasy. An internal response to letting go and giving into the inevitable. This was the drug he'd been relying on this past week. His purpose became that feeling. The high that came from the thrill of death. He could end it all right here in this moment and go out in an absolute state of bliss.

His drunken feet stumbled, trying to find traction on the cement edge of the Sky View Bridge, but found none; the man fell.