"I'm standing in front of a building where earlier today a man appears to have thrown himself from the 20th story of a city apartment building.
"As there were no witnesses we don't have a lot of information however, I can confirm that the man was in his mid forties, was wearing hi-visibility fluorescent ski gear and was a resident of the exclusive city apartment building.
"The first person on the scene was a skateboarder who called emergency services reporting that a skydiver had plummeted to their death in the middle of the central business district.
"Emergency personnel were quick to confirm that this was not the case due to the no-fly status above the city this long weekend whilst the UN security council meets in the city's exhibition centre.
"Roads in this part of the city have been blocked off since early this week, so it is not yet known how long the man was lying on the pavement before his body was discovered.
"Believed to be a prominent blogger, neighbours say the man is reported not to have left his apartment or received visitors in some months.
"The man's only known relative, a sister, is currently on a hiking honeymoon in Peru and can't be reached. The media has been asked to withhold the man's identity until his family can be informed and he can be formally identified.
"Whilst details are sketchy, this appears to have been lonely end to a lonely life.
"Janine Finkelstein, Ten news. Back to you in the studio Michael."
Showing posts with label dead body. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dead body. Show all posts
- 6 -
Dressed from head to toe in fluorescent ski gear, complete with all sales tags, I looked completely ridiculous, but I was especially warm. Thinking of the dirt and dust that engulfed me as I opened the outside door the evening before, I completed the ensemble by donning some almost matching yellow tinged goggles.
It's funny how you can feel embarrassed about how you look when there is nobody there to see.
The doors opened more easily this time, but the outer door still required a firm shoulder because of the stiff wind and the resettled filth on the other side. Squeezing through, I lodged a large dead potted cumquat in the doorway. I had keys, but being outside was still overwhelming. If I became trapped, I'd definitely lose the plot.
The garden was in ruins. What hadn't died had gone to seed and strangled everything around it. The little path was covered in leaves dirt and weeds. The water tank had overflowed many times leaving permanent puddles and rivulets carved into the dirt and debris.
Standing by the water tank, out of the wind, the absolute silence startled me. What day was it? Probably midweek sometime. At 9am on any weekday I should have heard horns, the murmur of the city, trains, trams and just general living sounds. It was like the city had held its breath.
There was no delaying it any longer. I edged towards the chest high wall. The wall was as sturdy as the building itself, but at that moment it looked flimsy and inadequate. There was no way I could trip and fall over the edge, but the thought of the twenty story drop made me creep towards the edge as though the ground were about to give way.
Summoning every last dribble of strength and will in my body and mind I craned my neck and peered over the edge.
At first everything looked normal. It had been such a long time since I'd bothered to observe the world I'd forgotten what it was supposed to look like.
The streets were there. There were even cars, trams and buses, but it was like a picture, not a first hand view of the world. Forgetting my fear I ran to each corner of the garden.
There was nothing moving in any direction. The feeling that descended, smothering me like too many clothes on a hot day, was isolation. After years of shunning the world, discovering that it wasnt there when i was ready for it was too much to bear.
No wonder my sister didn't answer her phone. The catastrophe unfolded in my mind. It was quick and devastating. So quick the electricity and water were still running. Probably an airborn plague.
There was a strange relief hidden within my panic. It wasn't that nobody wanted to speak to me. Nobody was there.
The wall was low, but the ski gear made it a clumsy climb. This was the only way. I'd seen the zombie movies. There was no point holding out. As I stepped off the edge, I thought about how ridiculous I must have looked. Luckily nobody would see.
It's funny how you can feel embarrassed about how you look when there is nobody there to see.
The doors opened more easily this time, but the outer door still required a firm shoulder because of the stiff wind and the resettled filth on the other side. Squeezing through, I lodged a large dead potted cumquat in the doorway. I had keys, but being outside was still overwhelming. If I became trapped, I'd definitely lose the plot.
The garden was in ruins. What hadn't died had gone to seed and strangled everything around it. The little path was covered in leaves dirt and weeds. The water tank had overflowed many times leaving permanent puddles and rivulets carved into the dirt and debris.
Standing by the water tank, out of the wind, the absolute silence startled me. What day was it? Probably midweek sometime. At 9am on any weekday I should have heard horns, the murmur of the city, trains, trams and just general living sounds. It was like the city had held its breath.
There was no delaying it any longer. I edged towards the chest high wall. The wall was as sturdy as the building itself, but at that moment it looked flimsy and inadequate. There was no way I could trip and fall over the edge, but the thought of the twenty story drop made me creep towards the edge as though the ground were about to give way.
Summoning every last dribble of strength and will in my body and mind I craned my neck and peered over the edge.
At first everything looked normal. It had been such a long time since I'd bothered to observe the world I'd forgotten what it was supposed to look like.
The streets were there. There were even cars, trams and buses, but it was like a picture, not a first hand view of the world. Forgetting my fear I ran to each corner of the garden.
There was nothing moving in any direction. The feeling that descended, smothering me like too many clothes on a hot day, was isolation. After years of shunning the world, discovering that it wasnt there when i was ready for it was too much to bear.
No wonder my sister didn't answer her phone. The catastrophe unfolded in my mind. It was quick and devastating. So quick the electricity and water were still running. Probably an airborn plague.
There was a strange relief hidden within my panic. It wasn't that nobody wanted to speak to me. Nobody was there.
The wall was low, but the ski gear made it a clumsy climb. This was the only way. I'd seen the zombie movies. There was no point holding out. As I stepped off the edge, I thought about how ridiculous I must have looked. Luckily nobody would see.
- 5 -
Today I decided to go up to the garden. I thought that some fresh air and a view of the horizon would clear my head. The strong winds at this height would almost literally blow my paranoid stresses away. The stairs in the narrow staircase were covered in dust.
Following my own logic of only vacuuming the parts of the apartment I use, it looked like I hadn't been up to the roof in months. Funny, because I specifically bought this place for the unique mix of outdoor living and its elevation above street level.
It took me a few minutes to work the lock. There was a slight knack to sliding the deadbolt on the solid inner door. Pausing I distracted myself wondering why such a heavily secured door was required this far above street level.
The bolt gave and the door swung out into the dusty airlock. Without this little walled in recess and extra door just opening the door could blow a person off their feet and the apartment would lose all warmth with a single gust of wind.
The first door swung closed as I unbolted the door that led out into the elements. As the bolt gave and I turned the handle, I thought that I must have locked it again by accident. Confirming to myself that the door was indeed unlocked, I threw my shoulder into it.
The door only budged, and I imagined a dead or unconscious body lying against the other side. Impossible of course, unless a stray skydiver had been thrown off course and landed badly. Two more shoves, each throwing up handfuls of dust that were whipped straight into my eyes by the fierce twentieth story winds. I squeezed through the doorway into the freezing dim evening above the city.
Of course there was no body, just dirt, leaves, plastic bags, a KFC family bucket, a flattened fedora and various pieces of organic and manmade debris. It looked like a neglected street drain days after a downpour.
It was at this point that I panicked. A combination of the air, the open sky, the distance to the horizon and no walls was all too much for me. I didn’t even take my hand off the door handle before I squeezed back through the doorway, convincing myself that I needed to dress more appropriately and come up in the full light of day.
Sitting in silence in my room, waiting for my heart rate to normalise, I went over the previous ten minutes in my mind. The dust on the stairs and the detritus against the door were more than a just few months worth. It must have been years.
The only enticing part of the whole ordeal was the taste of the air. It was fresher than I remembered. It reminded me of drinking from a mountain stream after hiking with a warm stale canteen of water for days. If nothing else I will make myself go back up for some of that air.
It was a lot quieter than I remember too.
Following my own logic of only vacuuming the parts of the apartment I use, it looked like I hadn't been up to the roof in months. Funny, because I specifically bought this place for the unique mix of outdoor living and its elevation above street level.
It took me a few minutes to work the lock. There was a slight knack to sliding the deadbolt on the solid inner door. Pausing I distracted myself wondering why such a heavily secured door was required this far above street level.
The bolt gave and the door swung out into the dusty airlock. Without this little walled in recess and extra door just opening the door could blow a person off their feet and the apartment would lose all warmth with a single gust of wind.
The first door swung closed as I unbolted the door that led out into the elements. As the bolt gave and I turned the handle, I thought that I must have locked it again by accident. Confirming to myself that the door was indeed unlocked, I threw my shoulder into it.
The door only budged, and I imagined a dead or unconscious body lying against the other side. Impossible of course, unless a stray skydiver had been thrown off course and landed badly. Two more shoves, each throwing up handfuls of dust that were whipped straight into my eyes by the fierce twentieth story winds. I squeezed through the doorway into the freezing dim evening above the city.
Of course there was no body, just dirt, leaves, plastic bags, a KFC family bucket, a flattened fedora and various pieces of organic and manmade debris. It looked like a neglected street drain days after a downpour.
It was at this point that I panicked. A combination of the air, the open sky, the distance to the horizon and no walls was all too much for me. I didn’t even take my hand off the door handle before I squeezed back through the doorway, convincing myself that I needed to dress more appropriately and come up in the full light of day.
Sitting in silence in my room, waiting for my heart rate to normalise, I went over the previous ten minutes in my mind. The dust on the stairs and the detritus against the door were more than a just few months worth. It must have been years.
The only enticing part of the whole ordeal was the taste of the air. It was fresher than I remembered. It reminded me of drinking from a mountain stream after hiking with a warm stale canteen of water for days. If nothing else I will make myself go back up for some of that air.
It was a lot quieter than I remember too.
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