Beyond The Leap

A story aiming to help people realise there is always another way out. *edit* I have edited the writing and taken feedback into account.

The mirror doesn’t blink. It just stares back, cold and silent, as if waiting for me to crack first. I lean in closer, searching past the reflection, my own eyes for something that might still be alive in there. But all I see is a face I hardly recognize.

The weight of everything presses down on me. The job I hate, the silence at home, the hurt of loneliness that doesn’t go away even in a crowded room. Every step out the door feels impossible. Every smile I fake feels like knives in my mouth.

I’m invisible. To friends who no longer call. To family whose words are empty of all emotion. I'm just a placeholder in this world, filling space and time without purpose. A gear in a machine that doesn’t care whether I function or not. I will always function, until I don’t. Until I won't.

I've played games with death before. A cut here. A pill there. Not out of bravery, but out of curiosity. Tonight, I’m done wondering.

The bridge stands ahead, steady, like a question I already know the answer to. The water below is black, a void, whispering promises. I climb the rail. The wind yanks at my coat. I close my eyes.

“Hey,” a voice says. Soft. Unsure. Real.

I flinch. I wasn’t expecting real. Not anymore.

She stands a few steps away, brown eyes, messy hair brushed by the wind, a kindness in her face that shouldn’t be there. “Are you okay?” she asks, and the words feel like hands pulling on my shoulders.

I don’t answer. I don’t know how.

She doesn’t ask again. She just reaches out a hand, gentle but firm, and helps me down.

We sit on the concrete, saying nothing for a while. And then, slowly, I start to talk. She listens, not the way people pretend to, but like she’s really trying to understand. She doesn’t offer solutions. Just her presence.

It’s been a year since that night.

She’s still here. So am I.

I’m still not whole, still healing, still learning, but I’m no longer alone in the dark. I’ve started to forgive myself. To feel things again. Things I haven't felt in a long time. To believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to life than pain.

I’m learning to live. You can too. It's not too late. Reach out. Someone will listen. Someone always does. Eventually. It may take a while. More than one person to help you. You may find a different way to help yourself. But if you don't give up, you will find a way.

Author's Note

Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of depression, suicide, self-harm, and emotional distress. If you're struggling with mental health issues, please take care of yourself and consider reaching out to a trusted friend, family member, or mental health professional for support.

Reviews

[JayG]

• I stare at my reflection, the mirror seeking my soul.

I look at my computer, seeking words. I'm betting I'll find words a lot more often than you'll see your soul. Were you hoping I’d tell you what matters to me? Of course not. But that’s how much the reader is hoping that you’ll talk about seeking a soul in a mirror.

My point? In all the world only one person knows why this person is staring into a mirror, what prompted them to do it, or what they hope to see. So it’s meaningful ONLY to you.

You must make the reader WANT to know the facts you’re feeding them or they’ll read a line or two and turn away.

As it is, you have a 206 word info-dump in which nothing happens but you talking AT the reader to tell them what, boiled down would say, “My life sucks and I am SO depressed.” You provide about a full minute of reading, or about a minute of reading and we’re on page 2. Yet the actual story hasn’t yet begun.

So, instead of talking about what matters to you in the abstract, present it in a way that matters to-the-reader. Nothing else works. In school we learned not the smallest thing about how to do that because they were readying us for employment, and writing things like a report, a letter, or, some other informative, nonfiction application.

So while talking about things that matter to you make sense when you read it, to entertain the reader—which is the only thing that will keep them turning the pages—you must make it meaningful to them in a way that pulls them in and makes THEM care.

In other words, you need the skills the pros take for granted.

Not good news, I know, but since the story works for you, you’ll not fix the problems you don’t see as being problems—which is why I thought you might want to know.

To get started, try a chapter or two of Debra Dixon’s, book

https://dokumen.pub/qdownload/gmc-goal-motivation-and-conflict-9781611943184.html

I think you’ll find that once things are pointed out, you’ll wonder why you never noticed, yourself.

Jay Greenstein
Articles: https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/
Videos: https://www.youtube.com/@jaygreenstein3334

[hiren]

Hi Jay g,
Why you say focus on readers people write for self. You give so many lines only to say focus on readers. I am not hurting you but telling you why you give review like this.
Sorry if I had hurt you
I like your dp.
Usha/Jessy Jacob ❤️

[JayG]

• Why you say focus on readers people write for self.

Were that true they'd not post it for others to see. Nor would they leave the comments window open.

People have been improving and expanding the skills of fiction and poetry for centuries—learning how to be meaningful to the reader and to avoid the traps that are so easy to fall into.

There are degree courses in both fiction and poetry related subjects. Do you really think they'd do that if the skills they teach are optional?

Public education is provided to prepare us for acquiring a trade or profession, not to make that unnecessary. So why depend on guesswork and skills inappropriate to the task?

As Wilson Mizner puts it, “If you steal from one author it’s plagiarism; if you steal from many it’s research.”

[RatsAlongTheWalls]

Hi Jay,

Thanks for taking the time to read and respond to my piece. I can tell you’re passionate about writing craft, and I appreciate the effort you put into your critique.

That said, your tone came across a bit harsh, especially considering the subject matter. This story is deeply personal, and while I understand it may not align with traditional storytelling structures or immediate reader engagement techniques, it was written more as a reflection than a plot-driven narrative.

I do see the value in some of your points—especially about making emotional stakes more accessible to the reader—and I’ll consider that as I revise and grow as a writer. Still, it’s important to me to stay true to the emotional honesty that drove the piece in the first place.

Thanks again for the resources and feedback.

Best,
RatsAlongTheWalls