Suicide no. 13: Naked Dream

The Dream

Suicide no. 13: Naked Dream

–by Derek Alan Wilkinson


“Why is Wyatt Wilson, of all people, doing this!”

“He’s so shy!”

“I know, right?”

Teenage cackling echoed through the high school’s low drop ceilings as Principal Reynolds scolded, reprimanded, threatened, begged, and otherwise tried to control—to no avail—his freshman student. The kid made straight A’s, but never was involved in anything extra-curricular—well, nothing until he decided to do what he did today:

After removing every article of clothing he wore in the boys’ bathroom, he walked down the hallway toward the cafeteria, in front of the salad bar, and just stood: without a shirt, shoes, socks, underwear—without wearing anything whatsoever aside from his golden wrist watch.

And almost a grin. Almost.

He would have been tackled to the ground by the faculty much sooner, but that same hand that wore the watch also held something else in it—something that kept anyone from doing anything aside from calling the police, laughing, yelling, and trying to talk some sense into him:

He was holding a loaded shotgun.

It had already gone off once; a round that served only to rouse up a few screams and demolish one set of fluorescent bulbs and the rest light fixture into a million shards. This action is what led to the current scene—one where the police showed up, with their gunmen in place, intercoms bellowing out the sounds of friends, teachers, his parents…anyone that the police thought could talk some sense into him. And this moment, above all other moments in his life, is the one that he wanted most.

That is, the moment where he was noticed.

Wyatt wasn’t a narcissist by any means. But, out of all the things a person wants in this life, one to be observed, acknowledged, even loved, by his peers. And, in a high school with three thousand other students vying for that same attention, almost none of them really had their moment. Wyatt thought that, for once, everyone should have their chance, their say—

Their purpose, if one would be so bold to call it that.

And, so, Wyatt felt that this was his moment. What would he say? What could words even say? I’m naked, and now the whole world finally sees me, he thought. And they did. And most didn’t know what to think, or to expect, or to even want to happen out of the situation.

Maybe some of the kids actually wanted other kids dead. Horrific, but true.

Maybe some of the kids wanted the principal dead. Or one of the faculty.

Maybe they wanted to see Wyatt make a clean getaway without even a slap on the wrist.

Or, maybe they wanted him to turn his loaded weapon on his family. Or the police.

What did everyone else think that Wyatt should do? Be? Become? None of that mattered, because Wyatt wanted only two things. The first: for the world to see this part himself. The second?

The second thing he wanted was for all other moments to end.

Inspired by the Daily Post’s “Daily Prompt:”

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6 thoughts on “Suicide no. 13: Naked Dream”

  1. Perse Show says:

    Wow…definitely another of my top favorites. I understand Wyatt’s pain; I felt some of that myself in middle school. I know what it means to want to be noticed, and I know that some people resort to, should I say, less pleasant methods of making themselves noticed. I’ve never done something this extreme (I got super bossy and tried to take over a class lab), but hey, what is fiction for? This is our chance, as writers, to deal in the extraordinary; for that is what makes it extraordinary!


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