gre words and short story #6
- amalgamate-(v)-to combine; to mix together
- assuage-(v)-to make something unpleasant less severe
- cogent-(adj)-convincing and well reasoned
- dilatory-(adj)-intended to delay
- guile-(n)-deceit or trickery
- pristine-(adj)-fresh and clean; uncorrupted
- inundate-(adj)-to overwhelm; to cover with water
- specious-(adj)-deceptively attractive; seemingly plausible but fallacious
- vex-(v)-to annoy
- dilettante-(n)-someone with an amateurish and superficial interest in a topic
- exculpate-(v)-to clear from blame; prove innocent
- irascible-(adj)-easily made angry
Story
Nothing could placate the bitter desire to end my life; not even the bullet that would eventually obliterate my skull's contents could
exculpate me from the horror that I had created.
From afar, I could see the lights of the city that saw me grow; the place that had had an inalienable influence in the molding of my
irascible nature, the same one that had held me responsible for the vicious crime that now tormented me.
At least there were some good days, I told myself, and my mind briefly drifted away to the young years, in the process
assuaging the bitterness of my guilt. The random, joyous memories served as
dilatory remnants that stopped me from pressing the trigger right away. Regardless,
amalgamating all those memories into a mental mosaic to look at and find forgiveness in it was useless; they simply couldn't rarefy the guiltiness that THAT ONE atrocious event had brought into my life.
Following that dreaded day, I had merely felt
vexed at the events that had unfolded, but as the days progressed, and the consequences became more lucid, the guilt had simply
inundated me with a rotten feeling that slowly ate away any remaining
specious reasons that I could've conceived to keep on living.
I had ended a life that night. A young one. A
pristine existence that had a whole lot to offer to this world, a whole lot more than this mere
dilettante would able be capable of. That night, like so many other moments in my life, I had taken a sudden appreciation for something that previously held no interest in my life; specifically, that day it had been street racing. A few hours of racing clips was all that had taken for me to become infatuated with the subject. My good friend had warned me that night no to go ahead with it, giving me
cogent advice against it.
I hadn't listen. I rendered myself prepared at the challenge of operating an Italian monstrosity in all its might. I began filling my mind with foolish
guile, telling myself that the few clips and articles that I had read on the subject sufficed to make me an expert. I repeated the lies over and over in my head, as I anxiously waited for the light to turn green, and for me to blast off in the process.
And indeed the light turned green, but along with the change of color, a little kid had materialized right on the path of destruction. A mere second later, what was left of his body collided violently against the windshield, breaking it, and ending the brief flight on the back of the vehicle, dead.
I could remember vividly his eyes before that instant, and when they stared back at me, I pulled the trigger.
No comments:
Post a Comment