Tag Archives: emotional

That Scene Is too Intense!

Have you ever read a book and reached a scene that was too intense for you to keep reading? I don’t mean intense action. What I mean is that the scene evokes an intense emotional response.

At the moment, the book I’m reading is nearing the end (finally!) and it’s gotten to a point when many things have come together and it’s an almost impossible situation to succeed. I’ve read books in the past in which a favourite character of mine has died in the final scenes, and I found it so intense that I had to put the book down for a while before I could continue. In a way, that’s the kind of feeling I’m getting now with this book. I want to know what happens, but I’m also afraid that one of my favourite characters is about to die.

I’m thinking about whether I should finish the book tonight or not. Or should I wait until tomorrow? I’ll see.

Have you felt this way before? Let me know in the comments. And please, no spoilers.

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A Train Station Story

Here’s a little story about something that happened ten years ago. It happened in the first week of August 2005, just days after I climbed Mt. Fuji. Let’s just say that my inspiration to write this post has to do with some videos I watched on YouTube involving train station incidents.

I was sitting in the station after work. It was around 10:30 pm, and I was taking the train from Konandai Station to Shin-Sugita Station, which is near where I lived at the time. I guess it would be helpful to mention that this happened in Yokohama.

As I was saying, I was sitting in the station waiting for my train, and I was looking at my cell phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a businessman, around thirty-five years old, pacing back and forth. There was nothing unusual about him. He had a black suit, was carrying a briefcase, and just looked normal. I had no idea what this guy was going to do, but I wish I’d paid more attention. I went back to my phone, sending an email to my mom.

The train arrival was announced, and I continued sitting, intending on getting in the car directly in front of the bench I was on. The front of the train was approaching, when I looked up and noticed the businessman. He ran to the edge of the platform and jumped.

Everything was in slow motion. I saw him, black suit, black shoes, black hair, and black briefcase, all flying in the air with a train coming toward him at about seventy or eighty kilometres per hour. I saw the impact briefly, but what I really noticed was the shattered glass scattering through the air. I could see every little piece with my heightened senses due to the adrenaline coursing through my body. I looked around, and one guy turned to me and gave me a look that said, “Did you see that?” His eyes were wide and they probably mirrored my expression of shock.

There were other sounds in the station, the screams of high school girls and the nervous laughter of the boys. They undoubtedly had a more gruesome view of the suicide. But I saw the guy alive the very moment before he was hit. I saw him alive for about five minutes before the train, and I had no clue what he was about to do.

I didn’t know what to do. I walked out of the station and got into a taxi to go home. I sat in the taxi without saying a thing, almost motionless while I stared out the window and the scene replayed in my mind over and over again.

I got home, went inside, and broke down. I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t want to do anything. I just saw a man die in one of the worst ways.

The memory hasn’t faded. It’s as clear as if it happened today. I don’t think about it often, but news of yet another suicide brings back that memory. They call them “human accident” in train stations in Japan. Sometimes, I want to tell someone the story I told you. I did when I went to work the next day, and I got to hear another suicide story from my school’s manager when she was in high school. In her case, she saw blood and a possibly severed arm. She couldn’t tell. But that’s another story, and I don’t have the details.

Why did I tell you this? Sometimes these things need to be told, instead of being held inside. It doesn’t affect me much these days, but it’s probably therapeutic to talk about it. Thanks for reading.

At a Loss for Words

Ever feel like you can’t think of the words to describe your feelings or thoughts? I’m having that moment now.

There’s a scene in Deadhouse Gates that moved me so much, all I could think of is “Wow.” Two large and strong characters, one powerful beyond belief, shared a moment where they both showed how deep their friendship is. They would die to save the other. I found my favourite characters of the book.

Flash Fiction #13 – I’m an Idiot (Flash! Friday)

I joined another Flash! Friday, and this one was written while I had a headache and was rushed.  But it seems I’ve had some positive responses to it.  The requirement this time was a theme: a fleeting moment.  The photo prompt was a man walking in the rain with an umbrella.  Here’s my entry:

They approached each other, both holding umbrellas in the pounding rain.

If she asks me to stay, I will, he thought.

I wish he would stay, she thought.

They made eye contact and smiled. Gary’s heart thumped. He heard the heartbeat in his head. Hannah’s stomach twisted. The butterflies were very active.

Gary’s eyes drew downward, then locked onto Hannah’s.

“Hello,” he said. “It’s not so nice out, is it?”

Hannah nodded. “Pretty bad weather.” She touched her hair and sighed. “Uh,” she started.

“You know, it’s not the best weather to leave on a plane in,” he said.

“No, I don’t think so. You should—“

“I mean, it’s really depressing, not that it’s dangerous,” he added. “They always fly in rain.”

Hannah smiled. “Yeah. Look, Gary—“ She hesitated.

Gary cocked his head to the side. “Yes?”

She shook her head. “Mm-mm. It’s nothing.” They looked at each other. “No, it’s not nothing. Gary—“

Gary waited. He looked down at his watch.

“Gary, good luck. I’ll miss you,” she said. She looked calm, but held back a sob.

Gary looked down. “Good-bye.” He walked past her.

I’m an idiot, thought Hannah. Why didn’t I say something?

I’m an idiot, thought Gary. I thought she loved me.

Comments or questions are very welcome.  Thanks for reading!