by Jesse Hamric

Created on: October 18, 2009

I stared down into the barrel of the gun. The black abyss seemed almost welcoming. My finger was planted firmly on the trigger, as I tried to build the courage to pull it. I assured myself that this was for the best, and that by pulling the trigger all the horrible pain in life would end. A drop of sweat fell from my head, landing on the pearl white carpet as I thought back to the memories that had brought me here. The first image to pop into my mind was that of my wife Ann, handing me the divorce paper. I could still remember the pain I felt, resonating through me like a virus. Ann telling me that she had been involved in an affair made the ordeal that much worse. She lay asleep in the next room, no idea of what was going to happen. Perhaps, I thought, that if she found my body she may have a taste of the grief that I was feeling.

I could feel the rage building again, like all the times before. This time was different, this time she would be sorry. I closed my eyes, wondering what the other side would hold. Would I simply fade into blackness? Perhaps, there was a heaven, or perhaps, there was a hell. These thoughts didn't deter me however, as I took a breath and braced myself. I began to tighten my finger on the trigger, and before I pulled it, Ann's smiling face passed through my mind.

The pistol let out a menacing click. I opened my eyes in a state of total confusion.

I could distinctly remember having placed a single bullet in the magazine, so why it would not fire was a mystery to me. I fumbled the weapon in my hand, before pushing the release button and catching the magazine. It was empty. This was not something that should be possible, as I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it had been loaded. Thoughts began to enter my mind. Could I be mistaken, and had actually forgotten to load it? The idea of that was quickly set to rest as I looked into the ammunition box sitting on the desk, it was missing one bullet, the bullet that I had placed in the gun.

I was never a religious person, but at this moment I began to wonder if a miracle had occurred. How is it possible for a loaded gun to simply not fire, and the bullet to vanish? At this moment things became too much for me, and the idea of loading another bullet seemed out of the question. If this was a sign from God, I did not want to ignore it.

I stood up from the chair I had been sitting, still holding the gun and picking up the ammunition. I decided that perhaps suicide was not a good idea, and I felt

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