I woke up one morning with the thought: "life means nothing
to me anymore" running through my head.
I wore my uniform and picked up my M-16 (I was supposed to
guard) but instead of going to the checkpoint
I went to the old building we used to live in.
I climbed the stairs to the third floor, the door was shut
with boards and nails, I climbed over the rail to the window
next to it and jumped in.
I was walking through the corridor and went in to my old
room which was empty now.
The sky became dark, rain, and a thunder here and there.
I wrote a letter on a piece of torn mezuza scroll I found:
"I'm sorry, I was always curious about the after life, you
know, always reading about and messing with ghosts. I guess
the curiosity killed the cat".
I kneeled down taking the M-16 magazine and secured it in
the rifle.
The lever slided back and forth easily as I loaded a bullet
in to the barrel. Pointing the rifle to the bottom of my
head I shifted the safety-catch to automatic (to make sure I
won't end up just brain damaged and not dead).
I just remained there still on my knees softly pulling the
trigger but not yet enough to release the bullet.
I stayed like that for what seemed to be an hour
occasionally pulling and releasing the trigger.

And then click...