text: (Author's Note: Reader discretion is advised! The following piece contains mentions of suicide and mental illness. Please note that this is all fiction! If you are an individual struggling with any of the aforementioned, please know that there are resources! You are not alone!) Lawrence Bradford sat silently with his hands neatly folded across his lap, moccasins locked parallel to each other and pulled inward, like the unassuming character he was. Dressed in a frayed cashmere coat and long trousers, Lawrence shifted in his plush cushion to peer at the figure before him. It was only the fire that crackled beside him and the howling, white wind outside that broke the stillness of the October evening. The weather is quite dismal out there. It would be difficult to see anything! Lawrence mused to himself. Lawrence scanned the room with his gray eyes. His arched nose and furrowed brows gave him a more pronounced look of concern than usual. It had been three months since he had frequented this office, due to Mrs. Bradford’s continuous prompts. “Dr. Lenning is the most esteemed physician in all of Emsworth. Vivian’s god brother had some ghastly visions, but after seeing the doctor, he was back to his normal self in no time. Oh, do pay him a visit! He’s right up the street!” Mrs. Bradford had urged. It turned out Dr. Lenning’s office was right around the corner, three doors down from St. Mary’s Cathedral on Howden Street, a short distance from the Bradfords’ flat. Lawrence was to meet him weekly, at a quarter till seven, just after he had left the school he taught at. Being a school teacher was far from the career he had dreamed of - instead, Lawrence had always wanted to be an architect. Drafting tall scrapers and bizarre structures in his schoolwork as a young boy, this fanciful imagination was what caused most of his beratement as a child. But because of a fatal accident of the late Mr. Bradford when Lawrence was still a schoolboy, he had settled on a more easily-accessible occupation. After the passing, the other students often taunted him, “Oh, look! Lawrence is still drawing houses!” and “You’ll never be able to become an architect, you guttersnipe! All you are thinking of is your imagination!” “Mr. Bradford, I understand that your slumber has not improved?” Dr. Lenning inquired, snapping Lawrence back into the present. The doctor was young - a product of years of shaping in an aristocratic, old family from the States. In the eyes of Lawrence, everything about him was blatant - there was nothing to hide and nothing to lose. There was no meaning behind those cold, blue eyes and Lawrence found himself curiously loathing every meeting with him, though he had no prior animose encounters with the young American. “Er, y-yes. That’s true,” replied Lawrence. “And why would that be? Last week you mentioned that the terrors were getting more severe. Is there anything in your life that is requiring much strain?” “Er...” Conversations with Dr. Lenning were never easy. It seemed almost impossible to describe his nightly visions to someone that barely seemed interested. And for the past three months, there was nothing but stagnant conversation and the same axiomatic advice from Dr. Lenning. “Tomorrow is a new day. Rid yourself of the thoughts.” But, Lawrence was hounded by the same dream continuously, night after night, terrifying him and forcefully engraving it into his memory. Every dream started with Lawrence walking down Howden Street. He would gaze longfully at the intricate patterns on the buildings that he had sketched as a child. The Greek Corinthian columns, each splendidly ornate with furnishings and surrounded with uniform fenestrations like squares in a lattice. Each brick in the wall was meaningful and inserted with care. The steps to each entrance were carefully designed to welcome the occupant, with a feeling of benevolence, warmth, and connection. A bridge into a new world under the arch of a doorframe. And alas - the cathedral! St. Mary’s Cathedral was hallowed, in his eyes. An air of importance and gravity emanated from the Trinity that was laid embellished on the heavy doorframe. The glass-stained windows several stories high were what captivated Lawrence the most. He imagined what he would see once he peered out of the multicolored facets. Perhaps he would see a new perspective on his life or even better, see another chance for him to start again. The austere beauty of such delicate fragments shrouded the entirety of the establishment with an air of mystique. A haven for worshippers, a solace for wanderers, and a resting place for the vagabonds. A home to all. The large bell from the cathedral would toll seven times, an indication for Lawrence to hurry along home. Alerted, he would turn the corner as the bell rang, heel-and-toeing along the backside of the cathedral, his heartbeat matching the drums of his footsteps. DONG Looking up, he would see movement in the Cathedral. How curious! He would think. DONG As he scampered along, he would see it was a window opening. The image of cherubs and seraphs trumpeting would catch the light of the setting sun. DONG Lawrence would halt once he realized that someone was climbing out of it looking possessed and transfixed by a spirit. DONG The man up above, several stories in the air would look left then right, as Lawrence would stand frozen in place watching this strange ritual. DONG Lawrence would cry up at the man, who would now be looking to the heavens as if to pray for one last reconciliation, to prevent him from doing anything unspeakable, especially in a place so sacred. DONG Like a worn handkerchief, the man would fall down weightlessly to the cobblestone road, producing a horrible squelching noise from the impact. Lawrence would rush over to the man, now spooling in a pool of his own blood. Adrenaline rushing and with outstretched hands, he would reach out to see if there was any life in the person laid before him to salvage. But there would be an object looming closer to Lawrence. Rolling on the stones. A bloody mess, Leaving a trail like a rolling, open bottle of red wine gurgling its contents onto a white carpet. A head. DONG A head that reflected the same expression as the spectator that stood before it. Both entities had the same gray eyes, arched noses, and furrowed brows. And from ground to sky, there was a resemblance that could not go unnoticed. The resemblance was, in fact, uncanny. Lawrence had just witnessed his own suicide. And he had to relive the whole thing every night. “Mr. Bradford, are you listening to me?” the crisp voice of Dr. Lenning penetrated Lawrence’s thoughts. “Oh, y-yes yes... Oh, I mean n-no I didn’t hear what you said,” Lawrence replied, hurriedly. “I was saying, Mr. Bradford,” the doctor cleared his throat, “If you want to continue these meetings, I’m going to need you to, per se, open up a bit more. I want to find the root of this... “vision” you have.” This angered Lawrence. He had put himself to great lengths to even confide in this stranger, and yet he still wanted more from his weak heart. The toll of living the same scene over and over again without a break was already draining, but to have to describe the experience out loud was destructive to his fragile mentality. He had to watch his own soul drain out from the whites of his eyes in his sleep, for Heaven’s sake. “Mr. Bradford, I know I can assist you. I just need to know a bit more about you and we, as a team, will head in the right direction. However, at the moment, you are being... uncooperative which brings challenges for both of us. I realize that talking about you seeing your own death may be... frightening, but I need you to think like an adult . All you are thinking of is your imagination,” the doctor chuckled. Lawrence had snapped. The storm outside had settled with only a light drizzle of rain remaining. The clouds were clearing up and the setting sun loomed in the horizon. The sky was blessed with a rainbow that stretched across the office’s trio of glass windows. DONG The bells of St. Mary’s Cathedral had rung, signaling for the schoolchildren at the park to race home for supper. DONG Lawrence, inside Dr. Lenning’s office, stood up, wordlessly. His eyes were glazed over and were fixated on the beam outside the window. DONG “Mr. Bradford! Are you listening to me?” the doctor yelled. DONG “You know, all my life, I wanted to be somebody. I had dreams too, you know,” Lawrence whispered, creeping closer to the window, sunshine scintillating off of his transfixed, gray-hued eyes. DONG “But one day, God decided to snatch it all away from me. And look what I’m left with?” Lawrence let out a chuckle, which grew into a full-bellied howl. He was uncontrollable. Insane. “Mr. Bradford, I don’t understand-,” the doctor started as he cautiously stood. “Mr. Bradford was my father’s name! I’m Lawrence. And I’m going to be someone one day!” “Erm- Lawrence, why don’t you sit back down and we can talk-” “NIGHTMARES!” Lawrence spat back at the doctor, which caused him to fall back into his seat. DONG “My dreams have all died! I’m left with only NIGHTMARES!” “My, my, doctor! What splendid windows you have! You can see everything from this height! And look- a rainbow! I remember seeing rainbow windows somewhere...” Lawrence inched forward and stared out the window. And then everything happened so quickly. He threw open the windows and climbed out of the window frame. “Mr. Bradford! Lawrence! NO!” the doctor scrambled out of his seat to pull him back... DONG But it was too late. Lawrence Bradford had stared at the rainbow outside of the window, waiting to see if he could see a new perspective on his life. But instead, he saw a glimpse of his own reflection. In his eyes, he was not a schoolteacher, a husband, a son. He was a nobody in the world. So he threw open the windows to see if he could have just one more chance at something great. He looked to the left, then right, then finally, up. But there was nothing outside those windows. So he jumped.