James sighed deeply as he walked through the old cathedral halls; everything he owned packed in the small rucksack on his back.
He rubbed his fingers along the marred pew top he had carved his initials into as a child. When his mother found out, she'd made sure he wasn't able to sit in a pew (or anything other seat for that matter) for a full week.
He chuckled as he looked thoughtfully at the wooden railing that had to be patched after he and his brother had broken it during a bout of wrestling.
This church; so tall, so grand... so empty now.
The mosiac window showed the Great Saints traveling from town to town. Helping, healing, saving.
"You all were a sort of adventurers too."
As he made his way back to the main doors, he took one last look at the old interior, largely unchanged for cenutries.
There was a hollowness in his chest... And a small flame of a rage. He would have preferred to stay, but, just like this old building, those who'd taught and raised him refused to change.
Stubborn, old, dusty, dead... Are they anything like the Saints they supposedly admire?
The flame inside him blossomed into certainty.
"It is time for something new," James said as he closed the door behind him.
My eyes opened and closed. Opened and closed. Desperately not wanting to return to painful consciousness, but some primal part of me feeling the necessity of it.
After many tries, I was able to keep my eyes open long enough to get a look. There wasn’t much to see, it was so dark. I feared I might be blind.
“N-n-no, oh God no,” I was able to mutter through freezing, dry lips. I raised a trembling hand to my face, but instead of the skin to skin I was expecting I felt the cushion blow against something in front of my eyes. The darkness shifted and I realized I had something on my face. I quickly wrestled off what I discover to be skiing goggles and was relieved that I was, in fact, not blind.
Sitting up now I could see trees all around me. The sun was giving it’s final light, like a guest mostly out of the door giving his last wave.
I stood to my feet in panic. My head throbbed. I felt a burning rage sweep through me. As I took it all in. No food, no water, no idea how far I was from shelter. “Ahhhh!” I yelled as I took a swing at the nearest tree.
I felt a flash of pain as even through my glove the blow to my hand was throbbing.
Hot tears fell from Jackson's face onto the paper. He felt so tired.
He thought about his near empty bank accounts, thankless job, family he hadn't seen in too long. The more he did, the more he felt his chest would cave in from the pressure.
Jackson looked down the note he'd been working on for hours now. So hard to find the right words, he'd never been good at expressing his emotions.
"They don't have a class on writing a suicide note," he joked to himself, forcing a thin smile.
He sighed heavily, a long, hopeless sigh.
"At the end of the day, it's hard to say what's wrong. When I try to put what's wrong down on paper, my life doesn't so bad.
But the way that I feel... It feels like everything is wrong. Like even my easy existence is too hard, too overwhelming.
I feel like I wasn't made to handle it all... Like life and I just aren't compatible... Like it'd all be better if I just wasn't anymore."
He put the pen he'd been holding for so long down and stretch his fingers. It felt good to be done.
Finnaly Jackson reached into his desk drawer and brought out the pistol he'd purchased just a couple weeks earlier. He pressed it to his Temple and closed his eyes.
A soft voice came from the next room, "Drop the gun; I'm here for you."
