Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The Black Pill

It was cold and windy.
John dug his hands deeper into his pockets, an attempt at trying to beat the cold.
His scarf blew in the opposite direction as the wind hit his tweed jacket.

Funny how when you feel alone the streets seem to reflect the same emotion.
He smirked and then it hit him.
He started to cry, silently. The mannequins were his audience.

He stopped. He looked up and saw the towering skyscrapers. He felt small and insignificant.

He then walked into a building, nothing too fancy. The facade was rather welcoming. He noticed for the first time the two trimmed shrubs in the pots.
John got into the elevator. The way up seemed so long. He slumped against one corner and watched the indicator show which floor he was on.

Finally the doors opened at the 20th floor. He fumbled with his keys and he was crying again.
He got into his house. Minimal but homely. But it didn't matter anymore.

He walked over to the ornamental fireplace and kept the prescription and the black box. He sat on the little stool close by, and got his cellphone out.
He said “Gary”
He kept that by the phone next to the prescription. The phone rang five times and then went to the answering machine “....Please leave a message.”

John shed more silent tears as he spoke, “It's over. I am done. I...I...I have to take the black pill. He said I can't be cured. I have AIDS. I am of no use any more. Society doesn't need me and I must take the black pill. I ....”

And the answering machine automatically cut the call.

“A machine cut the call and now a pill would cut his life short. Ironic.”, he thought as he took that prescription in his hand.

As he read it for the 5th time in the past 30mins, the last 30mins of his life..
“...After further diagnosis, I confirm John, age 32 has AIDS. It is my medical opinion that he take the black pill as he has now rendered himself useless to society and is now a hazard to the people. Signed Dr...”
The writing got blurry.

More tears..John folded the letter and tore it and the then tore it again and again. He let go of the pieces. They fell to his feet like confetti. He put his head in his hands and cried.

He stood up and looked at the black box. It was his death certificate. He touched the box and he had goosebumps on his hand. Sweat on his brow.
He opened it.

It sat beautifully on cushion. The black pill was shiny and it reflected John's face on it as he stared at it.

He picked it up.

The pill had already begun it's work. Human contact was enough really. It changed the persons perception of the pill itself and made the person take it.

John's hand moved to his mouth, it opened. He put the pill in and swallowed.
His eyes shut and as he shut them, he fell.
He lay there lifeless on the floor. His prescription lying around him..like confetti.

A small light beeped over the fireplace.
It meant the officials knew the pill had been consumed. They would come to dispose of the carcass.


Murphy sat with his drink. He kept moving the glass in small circles as he rested on his plush chair. A big huge side lamp on his right. On the side table was a family photo. It was a old family photo in a metal vingate frame, from when things were great.

He sighed. He looked at that photo and said aloud, “I shall be with you soon.”
He smiled.
He got a piece of paper out and read it aloud, “Dr. Murphy Holt. It is my medical opinion you take the black pill as you have completed your services to society. Signed Dr.Murphy Holt”

Not too many people could do this. But he could. He was a man of international stature (on the wall are medals, certificates and plaques). He stood up and walked to one of the plaques.

Noble Prize in Medicine for creating the Black Pill. He looked at it proudly.
He had created it so that his wife could die a painless death. He remembered her being in pain 30years ago. The cancer had taken over and she lay in a hospital bed and nothing could be done...

His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the door bell.

He walked through the hallway to the door.
As he opened the door, the door came flying in his face. It hit him on his nose and fell back.

A man walked in and the Murphy could only see a silhouette through his blurry vision.

“How could you do this? You killed him! YOU KILLED HIM?!”

Murphy tried moving backwards, still on the floor.. “What are you talking about?”

The silhouette moved closer and closer, “Don't tell me you don't know why I am here!”
The figure was now in his face.

“He..He...” “I... I... just gave him my medical advice..”

“You hate people like us? Don't you... But..he was my lover!”
The silhouette grabbed him by the collar. Lifted him and pushed the old man against a wall.

Murphy tried to struggle.
"You don't have to do this"
The silhouette pushed him harder against the wall.
"Accept death.." Murphy said still trying to struggle.
“You killed him...and.. that I WILL NOT accept!”
The silhouette stabbed him.And stabbed him again.

Murphy screamed in pain. As he slumped to the floor in a pool of blood, the black box fell out of his pocket.

The silhouette picked it up and dropped the knife. He stood there holding it.
He walked to the chair and went to the side table. He opened the pill box. Took the pill in his hand.
He looked at the family picture and picked it up..

He said.. “This was for John. I am sorry...Mom!”

A small light beeped over the medals, certificate .
It meant the officials knew the pill had been consumed. They would come to dispose of the carcass.


Raj said...

Hey, that's a nice story. I started liking your writing skills. Keep it up.

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