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Til the last person

By Mother CombsPublished 3 months ago 1 min read
Photo by Isabella Fischer on Unsplash

Joseph set his sprinkled cupcake down on the yellow pine kitchen table. He inserted a pink and white birthday candle into the center of the purple-frosted top. Joseph stared into the lone candle's flame for several moments, deciding what his wish would be this year. As he prepared to blow out the candle, Happy Birthday started playing in the background, and he could hear voices laughingly hollering for him to hurry up and blow out his candles. Drawing in a breath, Joseph blew a puff of air at the candle, extinguishing it on the first try. The voices all hollered out, asking him what he wished for this year.

Joseph looked around at the empty room, the old TV with VCR playing the last party he had been given before the end, and back at the lonely cupcake. No one was in the room with him. He had been alone in this bunker for the last two years. He’d gone out daily, looking for other people, but they were no more.

This year, he didn’t waste his wish on finding other people. He’d learn the hard way no one was around anymore. This year, he wished for the courage- to finally do what was needed to join his wife and kids.

Going outside, he grabbed a piece of rope and headed to a lone tree in the yard. Getting a stepladder, he tied the rope off to a branch. Once hung, you could see the noose on the other end of the string. Joseph put the rope around his neck and kicked the stepladder out from under his feet. He thought he heard voices as he hung there, strangling to death. As he dangled, he saw a group of three running towards him from down the street. From what Joseph could tell, it was two women with one man.

His last thought was, “Well, shit, Happy Birthday to me.”

**Author's note: Suicide is never the answer. If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide, then call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline (Lifeline) at (800) 273-TALK (8255), OR you can text 988 on your cell phone.


About the Creator

Mother Combs

Come near, sit a spell, and listen to tales of old as I sit and rock by my fire. I'll serve you some cocoa and cookies as I tell you of the time long gone by when your Greats-greats once lived.

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Comments (8)

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  • Canuck Scriber2 months ago

    An interesting story!

  • JBaz3 months ago

    Yep, that is the way it would go. Well done, I liked all the colors you added in the beginning, a stark contrast to his actual life.

  • I literally lol-ed at the ending! That was awesomeeee!

  • Cathy holmes3 months ago

    Oh dear! Poor Joseph.

  • Rachel Deeming3 months ago

    Poor Joseph. Twisted tale, Mother Combs, packing a punch.

  • Lamar Wiggins3 months ago

    Yes, I agree 100% suicide is not the answer. Seeking help, talking about it and working through the issues is a much better avenue to explore. Thank you for this! And thank you for including the hotline number. 💖

  • Hannah Moore3 months ago

    I always wonder, if I lost everyone, like, everyone, how would I continue?

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