Status: Finished
Soft Death
Soft Death
" What a fool you are Simon, such a fucking fool"
I sighed to myself as I remember what my parents had said when I had come home smelling of cigarette smoke and worse. And thinking back on what they had said, wishing that I had listened to them, because now, here I was, laying in the cold, itchy hospital bed, dying because I had to smoke forty of those stupid little death sticks every day.
It had been my fix, my little piece of heaven in the normal rat race of everyday life, but even that wasn't worth what was happening now. The subtle feel of smoke filling my lungs, sending nicotine chills up and down my spine with every breath, it seriously wasn't worth it and more, it wasn't worth the pain or the medication. Those simple pleasures of the woody sweet flavor in each breath didn't make up for the yellowed teeth and bad after smoke breath.
"What I fucking fool I was." I hissed to myself as I scratched the I.V. drip in my arm and took a deep shaky breath from the stupid air tank that was keeping me alive. "Who's a fucking fool?" Looking up from the needle in my hand to the door I tried to smile when I saw the guy that had gotten me into the thing that was now killing me. 'We both are Josh, we're both fucking fools." Josh only nodded sadly, his light dirty blond hair falling into his familiar eyes as he walked closer to my bed, his hands deep in his pockets. "So it's true then, you really got it?"
"Yeah I got it, so bad that they said I haven't got long...You’re lucky you got out." My breath kept catching as I spoke, my lungs heaving from the think black ash that I knew had accumulated there, clogging up even cell in my body with a think glop that was slowly suffocating me. 'No Si, it's not, I feel like shit man, it's my fault you’re like this." Trying to answer back I laughed only to gag on it, turning it into a hacking, dry cough that sent waves of pain up and down my body. Clapping a hang to my mouth I waited until the coughing stopped, and the taste of blood and ash slowly went away. "Fuck Si...” He was looking at my hand, the black-red coating of blood and the chunks of ash that had come up from my lungs. "It's normal Josh, it's just dying."
"What a grim thought Si," Josh just shook his head as he took a seat next to me on the low, uncomfortable blue chair, propping his feet up next to me. " It’s just dying" He quoted, sighing as he ran his hands over his face and through his hair. "Damn it Si, it's my..." I just cut him off, slapping his up the head in a movement that sent my body into another fit of coughs. "Don't say...” I wheezed through the blood and ash. "That it's your fucking fault, or I swear on your sister that I will come back to fucking haunt you!" That made Josh laugh, a sweet sound that wasn't filled with a pain that was more than skin deep. "She's missing you, you know." Josh said, his eyes flicking to the countless vases of flowers that were scattered around the room.
"Who?" A look of half-hearted shock crossed Josh's face but he seemed to leave it then said. "Sara, she's killing herself over this." I made note of how many flowers she had sent me, nodding understandingly. "Yeah that would make sense..." There was a moment of silence between us then Josh spoke up again. "I know this is a grim subject Bro, but how long did they give you?" I only shrugged, "He didn't say, he only told me 'It will come when it's time' little fucker just didn't have the balls to tell me only a few days." This time Josh's face was priceless. A mix of shock, anger, and sadness, all mixed together in his deep brown eyes. "Harsh Si, really harsh."
I only nodded knowing that this might be the last time I would see my best friend, but that was life sometimes, especially when you were a stupid teenager who thought that smoking was fun, and that standing against a wall with a fag hanging from your mouth looked sexy. Little did I know at the time that it was disgusting, and that standing in tattered leather with a piece of ash hanging from yellow stained, blackened lips was in no way sexy on any level. Oh how I wish I had been so much fucking smarter!
"I need to go Si; I'll let Sara know that you said hi yeah?" I nodded, trying to look my bravest as Josh got to his feet and dusted invisible dust off his ripped jeans. "See you soon alright Bro, hang in there." Again I nodded, as he turned and walked away, a pack of smokes sticking out his back pocket.
With a sigh I leant back against my pile of pillows, defeated.
This wasn't life anymore, this was just soft death.
The grave yard was silent as a large group of people stood around the now full grave of a young man, a young man that had made wrong choices in life, a young man that had died much too young the in the eyes of the people standing around the grave. But as they slowly started to move off only two people continued to stand, out in the rain, reading and re-reading the head stone that now marked the grave of their friend. On a boy, his dirty hair plastered to his forehead, the other a girl, her hair pulled tight up under a small velvet hat and veil, her mascara running down her face, from not just the rain, but from her tears as well. But together as they gripped hands and turned to walk away they threw looks back over their shoulders, a final glance at the simple words carved into the black stone.
Simon Archer Harvey
The fight for life begins with the first step
1992-2009
I sighed to myself as I remember what my parents had said when I had come home smelling of cigarette smoke and worse. And thinking back on what they had said, wishing that I had listened to them, because now, here I was, laying in the cold, itchy hospital bed, dying because I had to smoke forty of those stupid little death sticks every day.
It had been my fix, my little piece of heaven in the normal rat race of everyday life, but even that wasn't worth what was happening now. The subtle feel of smoke filling my lungs, sending nicotine chills up and down my spine with every breath, it seriously wasn't worth it and more, it wasn't worth the pain or the medication. Those simple pleasures of the woody sweet flavor in each breath didn't make up for the yellowed teeth and bad after smoke breath.
"What I fucking fool I was." I hissed to myself as I scratched the I.V. drip in my arm and took a deep shaky breath from the stupid air tank that was keeping me alive. "Who's a fucking fool?" Looking up from the needle in my hand to the door I tried to smile when I saw the guy that had gotten me into the thing that was now killing me. 'We both are Josh, we're both fucking fools." Josh only nodded sadly, his light dirty blond hair falling into his familiar eyes as he walked closer to my bed, his hands deep in his pockets. "So it's true then, you really got it?"
"Yeah I got it, so bad that they said I haven't got long...You’re lucky you got out." My breath kept catching as I spoke, my lungs heaving from the think black ash that I knew had accumulated there, clogging up even cell in my body with a think glop that was slowly suffocating me. 'No Si, it's not, I feel like shit man, it's my fault you’re like this." Trying to answer back I laughed only to gag on it, turning it into a hacking, dry cough that sent waves of pain up and down my body. Clapping a hang to my mouth I waited until the coughing stopped, and the taste of blood and ash slowly went away. "Fuck Si...” He was looking at my hand, the black-red coating of blood and the chunks of ash that had come up from my lungs. "It's normal Josh, it's just dying."
"What a grim thought Si," Josh just shook his head as he took a seat next to me on the low, uncomfortable blue chair, propping his feet up next to me. " It’s just dying" He quoted, sighing as he ran his hands over his face and through his hair. "Damn it Si, it's my..." I just cut him off, slapping his up the head in a movement that sent my body into another fit of coughs. "Don't say...” I wheezed through the blood and ash. "That it's your fucking fault, or I swear on your sister that I will come back to fucking haunt you!" That made Josh laugh, a sweet sound that wasn't filled with a pain that was more than skin deep. "She's missing you, you know." Josh said, his eyes flicking to the countless vases of flowers that were scattered around the room.
"Who?" A look of half-hearted shock crossed Josh's face but he seemed to leave it then said. "Sara, she's killing herself over this." I made note of how many flowers she had sent me, nodding understandingly. "Yeah that would make sense..." There was a moment of silence between us then Josh spoke up again. "I know this is a grim subject Bro, but how long did they give you?" I only shrugged, "He didn't say, he only told me 'It will come when it's time' little fucker just didn't have the balls to tell me only a few days." This time Josh's face was priceless. A mix of shock, anger, and sadness, all mixed together in his deep brown eyes. "Harsh Si, really harsh."
I only nodded knowing that this might be the last time I would see my best friend, but that was life sometimes, especially when you were a stupid teenager who thought that smoking was fun, and that standing against a wall with a fag hanging from your mouth looked sexy. Little did I know at the time that it was disgusting, and that standing in tattered leather with a piece of ash hanging from yellow stained, blackened lips was in no way sexy on any level. Oh how I wish I had been so much fucking smarter!
"I need to go Si; I'll let Sara know that you said hi yeah?" I nodded, trying to look my bravest as Josh got to his feet and dusted invisible dust off his ripped jeans. "See you soon alright Bro, hang in there." Again I nodded, as he turned and walked away, a pack of smokes sticking out his back pocket.
With a sigh I leant back against my pile of pillows, defeated.
This wasn't life anymore, this was just soft death.
The grave yard was silent as a large group of people stood around the now full grave of a young man, a young man that had made wrong choices in life, a young man that had died much too young the in the eyes of the people standing around the grave. But as they slowly started to move off only two people continued to stand, out in the rain, reading and re-reading the head stone that now marked the grave of their friend. On a boy, his dirty hair plastered to his forehead, the other a girl, her hair pulled tight up under a small velvet hat and veil, her mascara running down her face, from not just the rain, but from her tears as well. But together as they gripped hands and turned to walk away they threw looks back over their shoulders, a final glance at the simple words carved into the black stone.
Simon Archer Harvey
The fight for life begins with the first step
1992-2009