“Just Let Go.” (Short Story).

The fifty-nine year old version of himself was talking, “Just let go…”

“This is my future, a drunk feeling sorry for himself?” The thirty-one younger version of himself commented to the other version sitting at the kitchen table. “What the hell happened or will happen to me that I end up like this?” He studied the older version finding it hard to believe this older version of himself was going to be him?

Kyle wasn’t sure if the last hour or so was real or just a bad day of drinking or just another bad day that decided it had to be worse. He took a long suck on the bottle of whiskey and studied the younger version that did indeed look like him at thirty-something. “But you do look like me at thirty or there about. My hair is still all brown…As you can see we are pretty much all grey now but still have most of our hair…” He laughed dryly with the bitter edge he no longer felt compelled to hide from anyone let alone himself; at least his younger self anyway. Pointing at him with the bottle, “We didn’t or wont age well, Kyle.” He laughed again with a bitter look, “I’m only going alone with this as just a strange dream or something due to this fine bottle of demon whiskey.” Belches, “I am just a having a bad day of drinking, you’re not real.”

The young Kyle spoke up, “Not even sure why or how I am here, but I am here.” He crossed his arms and took another look at the very small bottom floor apartment and noted the dinginess of the place, “When was the last time you cleaned this place. I couldn’t live like this…”

“You’ll learn to, Kyle.” Again the bottle pointed at his other self, “And if you don’t like it you can clean it up.” Amused, “It’s your place after all.” Adding with a smirk, Or it will be at some point.”

“What happened to you, me, us, whatever, I don’t like this…you’re not my future!”

“Sorry, Kyle, I am you at the age of fifty-nine. You are a drunk, and yes, that’s about it.”

“When did I start drinking, I don’t even like the stuff.”

Laughs at him as he raises the bottle, “Well you will and you do….” A thought came to him but he declined to continue, “We have grown to like alcohol. Mostly whiskey.” He chuckled at something, “yes, it’s a fine thing whiskey.”

Angry, “What happened to me!” Adding with a look, “Don’t we still write?” Though the answer was obvious from the lack of any books at all in the room that he didn’t even read anymore.

The older self burst out laughing, “Writing! A waste of time and you’ll realize it soon enough. We stop wasting our time with that pipe dream a long time ago, Kyle.” He studied the younger version and took it all in but he felt the bitterness rise in his gut and that was all, “You’re going to come to the logical conclusion that it’s pointless, it’s always been pointless…” Another drink finished off the bottle, “You’re a few years away from that revelation but please continue to write…” Tossing the bottle into the open trash can; the sound of glass breaking came out. Looking at his younger self, “One day, Kyle, you’re going to wake up and realize just what a wasted life you’ve lived and you’ll stop writing all together…”

“Know I wont!” He rejoined back, “This can’t be my future self.”

“I am that, Kyle.” The older Kyle studied the younger a while, a thought came to him, “What were you doing, um, before you found yourself some decades talking to your future self, Kyle?”

Kyle tried to remember but couldn’t.

“Do you remember what you were doing that night in the backyard so long ago. Our beloved Grandmother was visiting and spreading her usual love and good cheer…” The venom was obvious, “Damn bitch can rot in hell all I care, but you remember that night? Where were we? What were we doing?”

“I vaguely remember that night.”

He grunted his thought on his honesty, “All you damn well had to do was let go of that damn rope and none of this would be happening. Noe of it would have happened!” Pointing a finger at him, “You had to survive, you couldn’t let them win, oh, no, Kyle, you decided to not let go! Damn I wish you had let go!”

“I didn’t want them to win.” Came the weak reply, “I just couldn’t let them win…”

“They did win in the end, Kyle, of course they did.” He struggled up and headed to the cabinet over the sink, removed another bottle of whiskey, and removed the cap as he eyed his other self looking defeated, “They won, not us.” A little unstable but he walked back to the chair, “I salute you, Kyle,” raising the bottle, “You made it to fifty-nine.” He took a long drink, “Great taste.”

“This is not happening.”

“We should have let go of that damn rope, Kyle, Would have taken care of all that followed because it wouldn’t have happened.” Leaning a bit forward, “What were you doing before all this strangeness happened, Kyle? What were you doing?”

He didn’t like the question for some reason, it bothered him, “I don’t remember.”

He smirked again, “If I am you and you are me I know full well what you’re doing or about to do…” He frowned at himself, “Strange though, this didn’t happen then or did it?” Belching, “Too drunk to care to think that far.” Smiling this time, “One of us shouldn’t be here…but answer my question, what were you doing before you invaded my or our apartment?”

“I don’t remember.”

He smirked again, took another long hard swallow the whiskey, “You shouldn’t lie to yourself, Kyle. What the fucking hell were you doing?”

Kyle stared at the version of himself accusing him of something he really didn’t remember; or want to remember? “Don’t change the subject, what happened to us?”

“Just let go, Kyle.” Kyle smiled at his younger self, “Just let go?”

He felt hot, angry, he was feeling a tightness in his chest, “No, this can’t be my future!”

The older version stood up and pointed at him with the bottle still in his hand, and spoke with the all bitterness of the years, “Just. Let. Go, Kyle! Let go of the rope!”

“No!” He screamed back, “No, it doesn’t end this way!”

“We should have let go the first time…” He smirked back with a look of disgust, “You should have let go!”

“The first time?” He snapped out of the horrible brief subconscious moment and realized he was being choked by the rope around his neck. It was burning, choking, killing him slowly and not quickly like he hoped. He struggled against the rope but of course it was too tight. And it was too late. He had given up and saw his future self he had created as of late things in his life were out of control and only getting worse. He saw the other self laughing, mocking, and cursing him standing before him accusing him of a wasted life as it drank from the bottle. It laughed at him, pointed at him, and blaming him for giving up. He felt his lungs burning, screaming for air. He felt himself losing again consciousness and he won’t wake up from it this time.

He saw the older version look at him behind the last drop of the bottle with a sickening smile, “Just let go.”

His last thought he managed to utter, “No….”