John Michael Corinth

The summer of 1997 held many promises for young John Michael Corinth. After a slew of decisions that ultimately led to becoming an instant millionaire overnight, it would seem that he had everything. Yet here John stands on the edge of a railroad bridge overlooking a swift running river below, complete with an aesthetic display of rock formations and tree limbs. His toes curled over the edge of the bridge as he stood nervously watching the river run past the rocks and the trees. His wrists were bound by rope behind his back while another rope encircled his neck. The rope around his neck tethered him to a large tree limb delicately hanging over the bridge about ten feet above him.

     “What am I doing here?” John thought to himself.

     It was only last week that John heard the good news from his wife: she was pregnant with their first child. With all the success that he had been swarmed with over the summer, it came as quite a shock to him that his wife, Amy, was pregnant. He had been too busy.

      “John…” a voice from behind him called tauntingly, interrupting his train of thoughts, “What’s on your mind, John?”

     John turned his neck slowly to face the voice that was speaking to him.

     “Ahh, John…” the man said again throwing his arms out to the side before slapping them together and rubbing his hands slowly, “Ya know ya don’t have to do this… Your wife is pregnant! You’re a fuckin’ millionaire!”

     “Don’t toy with me Charles. I know what you’re trying to do!” John yelled back turning his head back around to face the rushing river below.

     A crowd of people had gathered around the banks of the river, looking up at John standing on the bridge. They exchange glances and comments to one another as they pointed their fingers at him. Although John could see that people had gathered near the river, he could not make out what they were doing since he didn’t have on his glasses.

     “All ya have to do, John… John! Are you listening to me?” Charles barked back.

     “No… it’s all lies…” John said under his breath.

     “What was that, John?” Charles asked with a grin on his face, “John! …John! …John!”

     The roar of the rushing river below mixed with the echo of his name throughout his mind. For a moment, he felt his feet give way and could feel himself falling the twenty feet into the water; but only making it five feet before the rope snapped his neck.

     “No… It’s not real,” he told himself over and over again.

     “It’s not real!” John found himself yelling out loud.

     “John!” Charles yelled again, “Of course it’s real! How do ya think ya got up there in the first place? Magic?”

     “I… I don’t… I don’t know… I don’t remember,” John said.

     “Ha! What do ya mean ya don’t remember? What are you, daft?” Charles said. “I watched you… Those people down there… by the river… They watched you, too!”

     “Watched me, what?” John asked confused.

     “They watched you… I saw you… I saw you tie your hands behind your back after you put that noose around your neck…” Charles said.

     “I did not!” John yelled, his knees now knocking together as he readjusted his stance on the bridge.

     “Bullshit, John!” Charles yelled, “John! …John! …John! Are ya listenin’ to me?”

     John closed his eyes tightly, his brow digging deep into his nasal cavity. His memory was failing him.

<p class="MsoNormal"style=”MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt”>     “Why am I here?” he repeatedly asked himself.

     “Because this is where you belong!” he heard himself answer back.

     “My wife… my Amy… she needs me,” he said back to himself.

     “Your wife never loved you!” he yelled back.

     “Stop it! Why are you saying those things about her?!” he yelled.

     “Don’t you remember?” he asked himself.

     “I can’t remember anything!” he said.

     “John…” Charles coyly beckoned him from his thoughts, “Having trouble sorting things out, are ya? You’re not as smart as I thought you would be.”

     “What do you mean…?” John asked.

     “Who the hell is this man?” he asked himself.

     “Charles! How could you forget Charles?” he answered himself back.

     “I don’t remember, him,” John said.

     “Charles… six foot three, heavy set… never goes anywhere without a flask in his long black coat pocket…” he said answering himself.  

     “He’s the man responsible,” John said.

     “Responsible… for what?” John asked himself.

     “Responsible… Responsible…” John said constantly repeating the word.

     “It doesn’t matter anymore, John,” he said to himself, “You’ll never be able to go back.”

     “Go back from where?” he asked.

     “The day you set foot in that office… the day you made the choice to step into that elevator… the day you said yes… the day you told Charles…” he said to himself.

     “The day I said to Charles,” he continued, “…For the sake of my wife’s infidelity… for her disloyalty… her adultery… her unfaithfulness… to me…”

     “The child is not yours, John,” he said to himself.

     “I know,” John said crying.

     “You wanted this…” he said to himself.

     “I know…” John said choking back more tears, “I wanted her back.”

     &

ldquo;For everything your wife did to you, you said to Charles…” he said.

     “Rid me of this guilt… this… this… hatred towards my wife… I want to feel as if she loved me…” John said.

     “John…!” Charles voice boomed, “You’ve got everything you want waiting for you at home. Remember… this was your choice!”

     “Yes…” John said keeping his eye on the rocks below, “This was my choice. My decision. I am in charge.”

     “No, John… No,” Charles said laughing, “You are mistaken! I am in charge! You belong to me! Now step down from there before I make the rest of your life a living hell!”

     John turned his head towards Charles, eyeing him sharply. He turned back around and slightly bent his knees. Charles began racing towards him as John bent his knees further and then shot himself out towards the river like a frog jumping to a lily pad. Charles screamed and slammed himself against the ledge of the bridge, desperately grasping for any flesh or clothing that might bring back John. His hands met with nothing but the cool air through his fingertips.

     The rope tethered to John’s neck met its maximum length and snapped back, pulling the rest of his body forward before gravity had a chance to pull him back down to Earth. John could feel his neck snapping as his body succumbed to gravity, but he felt no pain. Something about that day in the summer of ’97; how it made him feel or rather what he couldn’t feel anymore.

     His body slammed against the bridge as the branch holding the rope snapped loose, throwing his body into the rocky waters below. The crowd of people watched in horror as his body molded to the shape of the rocks before the rushing waters had a chance to carry him away.

     Charles, who had been hanging over the edge desperately trying to grab a hold of anything that would bring John back, fought back a rage that was beginning to consume him. He knew he had lost.

     Some people who watched his body run downstream recall that once his body hit the ocean, it vanished.