The "Nicole Factor" Is Online

Welcome to the Nicole Factor at blogspot.com.
Powered By Blogger

The Nicole Factor

Search This Blog

Stage 32

My LinkedIn Profile

About Me

TwitThis

TwitThis

Twitter

Messianic Bible (As If the Bible Isn't)

My About.Me Page

Views

Facebook and Google Page

Reach Me On Facebook!

Talk To Me on Fold3!

Showing posts with label abandonment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abandonment. Show all posts

Monday, June 1, 2015

Short Story: Ditched

Author's note: I wrote this based on quite a few things, including how I just felt when I thought that I was the only person who was downstairs and, thus, unable to get Reilly up to my room for the night.


That was it...there it was...undeniably in front of her...facing her as much as she was facing—or at least having to face—it: the fact that she was ditched—abandoned—and now entirely alone—and helpless.

"...if you were the last person on Earth"—well, she was (or at least she felt like) the last person on Earth. The ridiculousness of that phrase finally revealed itself to her. 

"Nobody would help you if you were the last person on Earth because nobody else would be on Earth!" she thought to herself. "Shouldn't the phrase be '...the only other person on Earth', then?" Then again, her case fit the "last person on Earth" type of situation—she couldn't help herself now, and she couldn't help herself if she were the last person on Earth. 

"Then why should I even be on Earth?" she thought. Then again, she couldn't take her own life if she couldn't help herself for her own life; could she? Nonetheless, she was alone—she didn't even have any angels watching over her (let alone the Angel of the LORD tending to her —Elijah had Him to encourage him to at least eat and drink). 

If anything did  happen to her —G-d forbid —she'd at least write this epitaph down as part of her last will and testament for anyone whom would show up and find her. "At least throw me in a ditch if you must ditch me in my death as many ditched me in my life."

As she wrote her epitaph down, she realized that her sardonic humor was keeping her alive. "'Misery loves company'", she mused, "and 'two are better than one.'"