M M. There's a moment when the sun disappears, when darkness falls and
you're left with just your fears. That's the moment you feel your first pang
of doubt. That's the moment when the night comes out. When the night
comes out presents the suicide man. There are many religions that believe in sacrifice.
Some of the most populars say there was one grand sacrifice which saved the
entire world. Most religions stop there. But what if? What if there
was someone out there forced to make a sacrifice to save the world over and
over again. Now, if you're willing to go that far, what about
going a little further? What if someone were to stop that person from sacrificing.
These are the questions that keep us awake, especially when it gets dark.
You know, when the night comes out. The man at the end
of the bar had been sitting there most of the night, completely unnoticed by
most of us, save for the bartender who routinely made his way down to
that end in order to refill his drink. I wish there was something exciting
I could tell you about him. He was your typical drunk guy at a
local bar. To be honest, he appeared to be drinking some hard stuff,
but me and Jay weren't really paying much attention either. We were just
talking and watching the West Coast Network feed of a baseball game on the hazy
television set Marv had set in the corner of the place, the same television
that had probably been there since the seventies, covered in a thick coating of
dust. No one could coax Marv into cleaning. It made watching a game
or show more like watching shadow puppets. The Nook was one of those bars
you could only find in places like Chicago neighborhoods. It's located in the middle
of a neighborhood, completely off the beaten path, far from the main roads.
There were a lot more of these than Chicago at one time, the
kind of place built just for the neighborhood. This one was unique because it
was attached to a house. It was like some guy decided he wanted to
have a bar in the front part of his house, so he just went
ahead and built one, you know, so you could get drunk and still
walk home if you really wanted to. For the serious drinker, it was
the kind of place built for regulars rather than hipsters looking for craft beer.
It was also a place completely free of any amenities, no music. The
nook had no karaoke nights or drag shows. There was no fancy food.
You wouldn't be bringing your bachelor or bachelorette party here. All the nook had
was a long wooden bar along one entire side and stools set respectable distances apart.
There were a few battered and beaten chairs and tables around, but they
often got in the way, especially as people got more and more drunk.
Bottles lined the wall and obscured an old mirror behind the bar. Competing with
the television and the dust department. Completing the ambience was the tiny television that
had been jury rigged by Marv with a streaming device only recently. Prior to
that, all it got was the local stations using rabbit ears and tinfoil.
He still hadn't bothered to clean that screen, however, Marv was a man
who could put his foot down on some weird things. As for why I
was there, well, it was ostensibly to hang out with a j In
real life, however, it was because I had nowhere else to be.
I lived alone. My life was alone. I worked from home, Jay
was there trying to cheer me up, but it was a lost cause I
hadn't been happy in a while. But even Jay didn't know the true depths
of my sadness. Most nights, I stared at the ceiling in darkness,
no noise save for the cars passing on the street, and tried to think
why I should get up the next day. Then my dog would push her
nose against me, and I'd have at least one answer prompted by no one,
and said loudly enough to make the three of us watching the game jump,
The drunken man said I have to go home and kill myself, as
if someone had asked him what he had planned for the rest of the night.
I jumped a bit, as if maybe the drunk had read my mind.
Hadn't I just been thinking about limited reasons for starting a new day.
Jay and I stopped what we were talking about and looked at each other,
both of us as if on cue looked over at Marv. We were the
only people in the joint, so whoever drunk guy was talking to was rather
narrow. Marv just shrugged and smiled. Jay laughed. I laughed, but
there was not much joy in it. I was still freaked about the man
reading my mind. I'm sorry, did you say something, I asked the
shriveled man, while planting a smirk firmly on my face. I was trying
to remain even, not crying nor laughing. The man raised his head as
if slightly surprised to hear anyone had responded to his awe declaration. It was
at that point I saw most of his head was bald, but the sides
and back were covered in thick, unkempt black hair. As he moved,
I noticed that his head was criss crossed with scars. His face was the
very definition of sad. His eye drooped into his cheeks, which seemed to
droop right onto his shoulders and bypass his neck altogether. I starve to go
home and kill myself, he repeated, his voice slurred from too much booze.
I forced a laugh this time. I had seen a few crazy people
in my day, and once you saw them reveal the crazy, they exuded
a kind of aura. When I was going to school in Saint Louis,
for example, I saw a woman scream at an ATM machine and call it
a stream of anti Semitic terms, before driving away in a fury. I
see, I replied, any particular reason or did you just decide that was
the best way to end the week? Just curious, mind you? He
looked right at me, without the slightest hint of a smile, and with
those sad eyes. I do it every day, he said, I have
to, or the sun will go out of something. I don't really know
for sure. I have to A really bad thing will happen. Marv and
Jay burst out laugh. I smiled, but something about the look in his
eyes prevented me from joining in the laughter. That and well, not to
beat a dead horse with a broken record. But I was still weirded out
because of what I had been thinking about before the guy had spoken. Okay,
I said, with a slight quaver in my voice, how are you
going to do it? He shrugged. Maybe we all sit in front of
a train, not exactly at home. Then I said, pardon, He
asked, you said you needed to go home and kill yourself. I said,
if you kneel in front of a train, that wouldn't be your home
unless you have a train running through your house or something. Is my point.
He fell silent, seemed to search for more things to say, but
ultimately came up empty. I turned back to Jay and Marv and they laughed
again while I put on a false smile. It was rapidly running down from
ten into the eleven o'clock hour. The ball game on the television was from
the West Coast, and even that was winding down. Now. The day
was nearing the end, and as the time grew later and later, I
noticed the man at the end of the bar began to look more and more
depressed. It was as if he were slowly sinking in on himself. I
began to worry there was really something wrong with him. Jay and I were
talking about nothing in particular, mostly trying to decide if it was best to
head home, when the man at the end of the bar suddenly called Marv
over. Marv walked over and leaned down into the general stink of the man
and said something. The man produced money from within his pockets and threw it
down on the cracked, splintered wood of the bar top. He nodded at
Marv and staggered for the door. Off to kill yourself, I asked.
A strange fluttery feeling in my stomach. I could not identify or understand.
Yeah, he said, and waved a hand in a strange, absent manner
that actually caused me some concern. He exited through the door, and the
cool night air struck us. He vanished from our view as the door closed
behind him. Marv, Jay and myself did the routine where we looked at
each other again. You don't think he's serious, do you? I asked?
Who cares? Marv said he paid me. He's drunk. I wouldn't
worry about it, I nodded. Jay laughed. Jay also took another drink
from his bottle of beer. I tried to laugh too, but for some
reason, I didn't have my heart in it. What had started as a
joke suddenly didn't seem so much. I felt sad, worried, and the
reality of my own situation came rushing back. All I had to go home
to was a small apartment and a dog. I think I need to head
home, Jay, I said, why, he replied, but still early.
First of all, no, it's not. Second, I'm tired,
I said. You're not worried about that drunk, are you? Marv asked,
Nah, I said, I'm just tired. It's been a long week,
Oh gay man, Jay said, and shook my hand. I'll see
you soon. We need to do this more often. See you soon,
I said, We take care of Marv. I slapped some money down and
headed for the door. The cold night air took my breath away for a
moment. I forgot how much Marv's place retained heat and how warm it got
within those booze and smoke soaked walls. I walked into the night, looking
down the street, curious to see if the drunken man was still there.
On either side were just houses, nothing special or anything to write home about.
The neighborhood was quiet, but in the distance traffic whispered by in a
rush. Everyone seemed to be asleep. I saw a figure in the distance
walking toward a busy avenue about three blocks away. The figure staggered a bit,
but generally speaking, was managing to maintain pretty well. I walked down
the street and found my car. I was not, and have never been
much of a drinker. Beer never tasted very good to me if I drank
at all. It was the occasional glass of wine. Mostly I go out
to a bar like the Nook to hang out with friends, and I don't
mind being the guy who stays sober and can help everyone else get home safely.
I drink a lot of soda. All of this to say I was
not really concerned about swerving or getting stopped for driving drunk. As I got
into my car, I was more concerned my bladder might decide it was full
before I could find out where the man with the sad face was going.
I drove down the street, but took my time and felt like a total
creeper doing so. I didn't really know what I was going to do if
I found this guy. Was I going to try to get him into my
car? That would definitely be weird. Was I just going to watch?
Could I watch a guy kill himself? I had no plans except for this
sense of dread and my gut. It was a good time to just be
cautious, I figured, so I kept the creeper speed on the car and
my eyes peeled for the dude. Then I spotted him. He came out
of the shadows like a wraith, his clothes causing him to blend in with
the darkness. He seemed not to notice me at all, but just kept
walking down the sidewalk, weaving only slightly. We crossed the busy avenue,
then headed down another long side street. Once again, the houses on either
side seemed strangely deserted, perhaps dead. As the man walked and I crept
slowly behind him, he never indicated at any point that he heard me,
or if he did, he didn't seem to care. He was either too
drunk or too focused on what he was doing to even care. I figured
we turned right at the next intersection, and I realized I was heading back
toward my apartment. Up ahead was another busy street, almost deserted at this
time of night, and just beyond that a commuter rail line with a small
train station. It was a Friday night, though, and the number of
trains on this line was few and far between. Whatever he intended to do,
I feared he would be disappointed. He was walking rapidly now. I
was still letting my car crawl along behind him, but the clock was rapidly
approached midnight, and the man seemed to instinctively understand. I could not see
his face, but he walked sort of hunched over, and there was no
longer a trace of swerving or drunkenness. This guy could sober up fast.
We reached the stoplight, and even though it was a red for me and
technically for him, he looked both ways and jogged across the road. I
did a quick check myself and stomped on the gas to get across as well
against the light, and then prayed a cop wasn't hiding somewhere in the shadows.
There were no lights and no siren, so that concern fell out of
my head. Much to my surprise, the lights and gates across the tracks
began flashing and then descended slowly. I coasted to a stop and slid over
to the curb on my right. I watched as the hunched man walked up
the sidewalk and across to the train station. He stood on the edge of
the platform and peered down the tracks toward the downtown. From where I was
sitting, I could just see a light pierce the night. I felt the
ground vibrate and heard the sound of the engine. It was really humming along.
I could tell right then this was an express train, probably traveling right
from downtown to the end of the line way out in the suburbs. I
watched as the man stood there, staring down the track. Now I could
really see the train. The engine was so loud, and I got the
impression this was some horrible dragon or beast from a fairy tale. Then,
as my mouth fell open and felt as if my chin were down near my
stomach, the man stepped right in front of the train. The train roaring
as it was, and the shadows as dark as they were, probably never
heard or felt anything. It was not like the man was kneeling in front
of the train and the full glare of the headlight. He simply waited and
stepped out into its path. He was hit at full speed before his feet
could even come near the tracks. His body exploded into pieces. I had
never seen anything like it in my life. I vomited almost immediately, and
all of the soda and whatever I had eaten for dinner ended up in my
lap. I could hear the sickening thud, and I watched the sickening red
splash as it coated the front of the train. I saw a bone and
guts, and I saw a viscera fly in all directions. It was as
though the man had swallowed a hand grenade with the pin pulled. I suppose
some other person might have jumped out of the car and started screaming. I
also supposed someone would have grabbed their cell phone and called nine one one.
I had just sat there with my mouth open and the smell of vomit wafting
through my nose. My whole body shook, and my stomach was still rebelling.
The train rumbled past without stopping, so it confirmed that the engineer had
not even seen the man step in front of the train. I pulled the
car into the parking lot of a nearby bank. I stepped out of my
car on legs that felt like rubber which had been sitting in the sun for
too long. Vomit still coated my clothes, and I absently wiped at it.
I staggered a bit and walked toward the train station. I thought I
could actually smell blood in the air, but that would have been impossible considering
the sickness I had splattered all over myself and the side of my car.
The sound of the train faded into the night, and the gates raised.
The last of the dings from the gates echoed in my head, and the
sudden silence was almost too much for me to bear. I nearly turned and
ran back to my car. I held on to my sanity with my finger
nails and kept my pace. I crossed the street and stepped on to the
same platform where I had watched the man jump. The station was to my
left. I swallowed hard and felt my gorge rise yet again. I started
to look for body parts. To my surprise, I couldn't find any.
I walked all the way to the end of the platform, then back to
the start. What are you doing here? When the voice spoke up behind
me, So help me God, I squeaked. I whipped around, and
there was the man with the sad eyes. When I first saw him there,
he appeared as if he had just left the bar perfectly whole. As
I moved closer to him, I witnessed a long, thin line of red
across his forehead slowly disappear like magic. I just you just d How did
I thought? I managed to stammer that one hurt, he said, as
if you were talking about the weather. I thought hangin was bad, but
that one had to hut even more. You would think you would be over
with quickly that way, But man, no one tells you how painful that
instant of pain really is. I approached him slowly, certain I had lost
my mind. Reached out my hand and touched his shoulder. I felt something
move beneath his shirt and removed my hand Immediately. He reached across his body
and snapped the shoulder back into its socket. It popped loudly in the silent
night. I saw you explode, I said, in a whisper. Yeah,
he said, Well, I better get home, take care. I
opened my mouth to say something more, but the world just turned gray and
narrowed down to a pinprick. I fainted dead away. I awoke to find
myself in my own apartment on my couch. I sat bolt upright, as
if a bolt of electricity had shot through me. Spikes of pain exploded through
my head, and I reached back to find I had dried blood in my
hair. You hit your head, a voice said, and for the second
time, I nearly jumped out of my skin. A how, I asked,
A von der Woolet and saw you didn't live faw The man with the
sad eyes replied, A drovi here you keised when your pocket. Your dog
is very friendly. By the way, despite the pain, the uncertain look
I gave him made him laugh. I had the world's craziest mud. She
loved me and only me. Essentially, this meant she hated and barked at
every other living thing on the planet. It made having company almost impossible.
No, she's not, I said, Well, I have an effect on
animals, he said, and scratched my dog on the head. She licked
his hand. I think you'll be just fine. Maybe turn not to let
yourself fall asleep for a little while. Yet, I really should get home.
I don't understand any of this, I said. It's really best that
you don't. He said. It's like I said at the bar, I
have to kill myself every day or the whole universe collapses. It's not fun,
but it's what I have to do that's impossible, I said. A
sad smile crossed his heavenly lined face. That's what I said when the angel
came down and told me I had been chosen for this task. And also
bet you would have said what you saw tonight was impossible. But here I
am having to do it every day, and now you are talking to a
man who got hit by an express train. I need to know more about
this, I said, realizing that it sounded rather pathetic. Still, my
head hurt like a son of a bitch, and my curiosity burned. I
know, he said, Look, I need to get home. You may
need to go see a doctor or something. I'll come back here tonight.
You can ask me whatever you want. Then I looked up into the droopy,
sad eyes. Promise, yes, he said, and actually smiled.
He headed for the door. He seemed to pause for just a moment before
exiting, but quickly turned the doorknob and walked out. I decided it was
time for me to get ice for my head, so I headed to the
kitchen. I stayed awake watching cable the next six hours. I have no
idea what is supposed to happen when a person with a head injury falls asleep,
but I was not about to find out. I couldn't come to terms
with what I had seen and refused to even start speculating on what was really
going on. I had just about convinced myself I was hallucinating or that something
had been slipped into my drink when I finally allowed myself to fall asleep.
I awoke several hours later. The sun was high burning through the blinds,
telling me it was afternoon. I got up showered and dressed. I popped
several aspirin and the hopes of easing the throb in my skull. I took
my dog for a walk and contemplated doing some work, perhaps checking my emails,
but decided I had to focus on the matters at hand. The fact
was I had a man who claimed the very existence of the world was based
on him dying every day. This meant that he would have to arise from
each suicide so he could accomplish his task again the following day. In some
strange way, this would make him a mortal. The strange twist, of
course, is that to be a mortal, he had to constantly die.
He also did not appear to be age frozen, so he was still getting
older. Would he eventually die of natural causes? If so, what would
happen then? And what would happen if someone just killed him? The entire
story was insane, and yet I was becoming more and more convinced I had
actually seen the man jump in front of a speeding train the previous night.
I looked up at the sky as I walked my dog near my apartment.
Later that afternoon, it was a gorgeous blue day with hardly a cloud in
the sky and a crisp breeze. It was nearing the end of winter,
so the air still had a bite to it, but it wasn't the depths
of cold that you normally associate Chicago with, and say January or February.
The world was beautiful, but when you looked closely, you saw the ugly
rotted bits. Where was my life? I was alone in a one bedroom
apartment with nothing else to love save for my dog. She was great,
but my insides were hollow. I knew, however, I'd never have the
ability to kill myself. If the task of saving the world fell to me,
I would never have been able to do it. It got me thinking
dark thoughts too. At the same time, I wanted to tell Jay all
about this. It was hard to figure out what to do. It was
hard to keep things to myself. I was on tenor hooks throughout the day.
When the doorbell rang just after seven, I was surprised when my dog
did not immediately go crazy. Normally, attacking potential strangers was her favorite hobby,
and it was all I could do to contain her and prevent her from
attacking postal workers and delivery personnel. This time, she was excited and ran
and circles near the door. When I opened the door to my apartment,
she immediately ran to the door at the front of the building. I waved
at the sad eyed man. I opened the door, and he knelt down
to pet my dog. She put her paws on his arm and licked his
face. If I ever wanted proof that this man, at the very least
was different, I had only to look here. That's amazing, I said,
watching the two of them. It's a strange side effect my curse,
he said. Animals just love me. It means I can't kill myself by
stropping raw meat on me and jumping into the line enclosure at the zoo.
Though he actually laughed at that, I smiled back, my head whirling around
and around with thoughts and ideas about what to do next. We entered my
apartment and he sat in a batterned armchair I had covered with an old green
blanket. I offered drinks and he accepted water. I returned with water for
him and a bottle of root beer for myself, and I sat down on
my couch. My dog sat at his feet. I was nervous and excited
to the point of shaking. I hardly know where to start asking questions.
I said, well, let me save you some worry. He said,
I'll just come out and explain it all to you. Basically, I've been
responsible for the continued existence of the world for forty years now. I have
no idea if someone was doing the job before me, but I was assured
when the angel came and spoke to me that this was a true honor.
I'm not so sure any longer if this was the truth. Where did you
see this, angel? I asked, where were you? What did it
look like? I was at home? Actually, he said, I'd been
very depressed. What's funny is I had tried to kill myself several times before.
I was always saved in one way or another. When the Angel came,
I was in one of my funks, this time about a recent relationship
that had ended. I was wondering if I should try sticking my head in
the oven, or maybe running a hose from my car's tailpipe to the driver's
seat. I was watching something on television while thinking this, and suddenly all
of the air in my apartment just well sort of exploded. This bright light
shot from my floor into the ceiling, there was a huge tower of flame.
For a few seconds that I saw the figure of a man with six
wings. For another second, right after that, there was another flash,
and standing right there between me and the TV was this man with dark hair,
dark sunglasses, and a black suit. A black suit. I asked,
that seems a little against type. I thought so too, he replied.
Anyway, He said he was an angel and he had been sent by
God to give me a special purpose in life. He told me the world
had become so sinful and beyond his ability to save that it was time for
another sacrifice to save it. He explained, what was really needed was a
continual sacrifice. I had been chosen to be that sacrifice. Every day,
just before midnight, I was to die so that the world would be allowed
to live one more day. He paused and studied my face. I must
have looked stunned, baffled, confused, and maybe even a bit doubtful.
He held up his hands as though to say, well, there you go.
What am I to do? I shook my head and sighed. But
I thought God wasn't a particular fan of suicide. I said, well,
my thought on that is he gets around it because I don't stay dead.
No sooner do I die from whatever means I choose, But I come right
back as good as new. How do you know he was from God?
I asked, wouldn't the devil pull some kind of weird stunt like this?
He shrugged. I wondered about that too, August says, no way to
know for sure. Have you ever skipped today? I asked? The world
is still here, isn't it? He asked right back? How have you
done it every way you could imagine? He said. I've hanged myself dozens
of times. I've used guns to shoot myself until the guns wore out.
I've stuck my head in ovens, taken pills and inhaled carbon monoxide. I've
cut open my wrists and slip my own throat. I've impaled myself. I
have never thrown myself in front of a car or truck, though, why
not? Too hot on the drivers? I would imagine, too many questions
would come up. I just kept shaking my head. This is impossible,
I said. It makes no sense. Why would God hinge the existence of
all mankind on the daily suicide of one man? And why you? I
was chosen, and that's all I know, he replied. When you're the
chosen one, you don't spend a lot of time asking questions. You do
what you were chosen to do. That's what's good about being chosen. Does
it hurt, yes, he said, It all depends on the method.
Of course, last night hurt more than I thought. Slitting your wrists isn't
much fun, but painless once you get past the cutting pot. Hanging is
tough since you can strangle, which is also the problem with putting a plastic
bag over your head or drowning yourself. Jesus, I whispered, I've never
met him, but I imagine crucifixion is even more painful, he said.
It took me a moment to realize he met Jesus, and I couldn't help
but laugh. Do you see heaven or hell or whatever? No, he
said, I sometimes see the tunnel with the light. I think I've also
seen dead relatives. However, I always come back before I get to the
end of the tunnel. Then there was last night when the light turned out
to be a train. Do you have to do it right before midnight?
I asked? What happens if you get detained in some way. Can you
just wake up, kill yourself, and then come back and spend the rest
of the day shopping or something. The instructions were to do it right before
midnight, he said, I've never wavered. Wouldn't this make it impossible for
you to have a relationship. I don't know, because I haven't tried to
have one. I have a new purpose now ever been tempted to just see
what would happen if you didn't. Why would I want to see the world's
end. Maybe it's a test. Maybe they want to see how long you'll
keep killing yourself before you stop. Maybe the test is to see if I
will keep killing myself to save the world. And once I stop, then
God will know there's not even one soul left down here willing to sacrifice himself
for others. If that happens, who knows. Maybe the world will end.
But you're aging. You aren't actually immortal, right, Someday you'll just
die from old age or a disease. What happens? Then? My heart
pounded in my chest. He shrugged. I don't know. I'm not going
to live further. If the world has changed when I die, then maybe
it will be saved. Maybe this task gets passed on to someone else.
I'd rather not find out, he sighed, as if saying it is what
it is. I could not stop shaking my head. Meanwhile, my dog
jumped into his lap and licked his face again. I think the point is
just about sacrifice, he said suddenly. I think the world has lost its
sense sacrifice. No one wants to get involved in the pain of others because
we're afraid some of the pain might splash on us. Therefore, we just
let others live in pain. And now I felt that way for a long
time. I don't feel that way anymore. How are you planning on doing
it tonight, I asked, Oh, he said, with a sigh and
a shrug. After last night, I thought I might give myself a break.
I was just going to take a bunch of sleeping pills I keep around.
You have to be careful with pills, though, I have to make
sure they take effect and kill me before midnight. So just the effort isn't
good enough. I was told I needed to be dead. I take that
to heart. I wanted to ask him more. I wanted to ask him
something that would make it seem real. I realized there was no question that
would ever make sense of what I had seen the night before and the story
he had told me. At the same time, something dug in my insides,
desire, which was a mixture of excitement, curiosity, and sadness.
Would you like some more water, I asked. He nodded. I headed
for the kitchen. The window blind was up overlooking the street just beyond.
I could not see the sunset, but from the colors in the sky I
was willing to bet it was a dazzling one. I reached into the fridge
to grab another bottle of water. As I left the kitchen, I grabbed
the rolling pin I kept beneath the sink. I held that pin in my
hand. What was I thinking of doing? Was I really considering this?
It was madness, of course, but I had been feeling a tug of
madness inside my head for weeks. Now. I knew I would never have
the courage to kill myself. But what if the world itself died? Insanity?
The thought was utter insanity. I nearly laughed as I thought about it.
A single tear dripped down the side of my face. What if the
curse passes on? I thought, maybe it would be interesting to have a
purpose too many maybes. I walked back into the room and the man with
sad eyes looked up at me. He smiled as I handed him the bottle.
He said thank you and turned his head away from me. When he
did so, Without even thinking about it, I raised the rolling pin and
brought it down on the back of his head. The sound of the crunch
was so loud I would never have imagined it would be so loud. He
made a strange noise, spat water across his lap. My dog barked and
bared her teeth at me. I raised the pin and hit him again.
Blood flew from his nose and flew it leaped from his ear. Then he
fell forward onto the small coffee table. The table was flimsy, and the
legs cracked then gave way beneath his weight. My dog went nuts and hurled
a flurry of barks. I called her name, and she lowered her head
and sat looking at me, panting. I sat down on the sofa and
let my dog take up residence and my lap. She licked my face and
I scratched her under her chin. I watched the body of the sad eyed
man as it twitched for a while and then stopped. I watched as blood
and fluids seeped into my carpet. That was several hours ago. Now he
did not get back up this time. Apparently it only worked if he killed
himself. No angel showed up in my living room to offer me his job
and his place. There was no booming voice from heaven telling me I had
murdered the man who was saving the world, and that his soul was crying
out from the grave. It's nearly midnight now. Most of the television programs
are over. I'm watching some old Western. My dog is asleep on the
floor next to me. If the world ends at midnight, then I guess
his story was true, and I will have my answer. If it does
not, well, I guess I'll have to make some plans. I'll need
to figure out what to do with a body. For example, I wonder
what will happen. Portrait of a man in waiting. And here we sit,
just like our friend, sitting in his living room, dog nearby,
bloody rolling pin in his hand, waiting. Will the suicide man just get
up? Or will the world wink out of existence come morning? It's hard
to know. For sure when the sun goes away, because worst case scenarios
are the currency of choice. When the Night Comes Out. You've been listening
to When the Night Comes Out, a weekly horror anthology podcast with stories by
Brian w Elaspa and narrated and produced by Ali James, music by Vivekabishek.
For Brian's work, visit his website at brianw Elaspa dot com or visit Amazon
dot com for his books of fiction and nonfiction. Be sure to listen to
Ali's work on Facebook at Ali James Projects. Visit our website at When the
Night Coomes Out dot com to learn how to support us on Patreon