Assorted Short Stories

Fear.

I thought about it a few times; ending my life.
Nearly even tried, once or twice.

But I was too scared.

Scared of death.

Would it be painful, dying?
Would I feel my soul being ripped away from my body?
What would come after?
Would I be conscious while they dressed me in my finest frock, pasted my already pasty skin with a coat of makeup and placed me in my coffin?
I know I'd be comfortable; with all that padding and all.
Maybe thats why they put padding in coffins?
To smooth out the bumps of being lowered into the ground.

Would I hear the thump, thump, thump of the initial handfuls of hard, unpacked, cold earth hitting the lid of my coffin as my 'loved ones' waved their final goodbyes.

What would come after?
Would I go heaven?
I doubt it.
I did kill my brother after all.

My brother.
Maybe I would see my brother.
Apologise for killing him.
I didn't mean it.

We could live the childhood together that he never had.

Thats what I'm scared of.
Death.
The good, the bad.
The unexpected.

I always ask myself.
Question my thoughts. My fears.
Am I a coward? Or am I brave for not going through with it.

They always say to face your fears.
But what if what you're afraid of is death?

Do you kill yourself and get over your fear?
Would that be classified as brave?

Or is it me being a coward.
Not facing my problems.
Running away.

But... Another but.

But what if one of my problems is death?

Always that question.

Am I brave?
Am I weak?

(This is a little snippet from a story-to-be, hence the 'I killed my brother' portion. Context: She was a twin, but her brother died during birth as her umbilical cord wrapped around his throat.)