Date: Mon, 19 Jan 2015 15:56:39 -0500
From: “N.A. Booko”
Subject: Cliffside . .
I am sitting on the edge of a cliff. It is a steep drop off to the jagged rocks and sharp tree branches below. Shrill, wind swept voices yell in unison- “Jump!” “Jump!” A pulsating haunting melody that almost convinces me . I’ve been before, but I never seem to know just how I got there. The earth beneath my rump is covered with nettles, briars and biting insects. I stare straight ahead, the distant landscape is a pleasant, mounding ripple of green. An occasional bird flits by and quickly disappears.
When I look down, I see my fate. I am falling off, falling down, tumbling forward at an astounding speed. Bumping my head on rocks, my wrist is flung again a sharp bolder. My clothing is ripped and I am bleeding. There is nothing I can do to stop the motion. I keep falling, further and further down the rugged cliff side- Then, after what seems to be an eternity, it stops. I am at the bottom. No sounds except the heavy pounding of my heart. Breathing heavy, I am limp, unable to move, unable to do anything but look up . . .
When I look up, all I see are fluffy white clouds- billowing, blowing and dancing across a bright blue sky. I don’t see or hear anyone searching for me. No modern high tech gadgets on me to bleep and buzz, nothing to send a signal. If I had, there might be someone listening and looking . . .
N.A. Booko