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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Plunge


Aardvark

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As I looked over the precipice, my stomach turned. I knew the cliff was high, I'd just never seen it from this close before. Or this perspective. I was having second thoughts. I looked back over the events that had lead me to here. The hard uphill battles, with spiteful adversaries at every turn, their only goal to see me fail. The constant pressure from my family, my peers and my colleagues. It had all seemed too much for me. And now I was here, facing what probably would be the end. I looked down, once more. The ground seemed to rush up to meet me. They don't call them dizzying heights for nothing, I mused to myself.

 

I retreated from the edge and regained myself. I'd never really thought it would be this hard. As easy as falling off a cliff.... bah. But how could I turn back. What was there for me if I walked away? The humiliating shame of defeat, that's all. I had to go through with it. In my mind, there was no other option.

 

I turned back and looked out over the valley. It seemed to go on forever, a blanket of lush green. I thought about every one of those trees, upturned branches, ready to impale me. Or I could slip through the trees, land on the ground and become the meal of some wild scavenger. It really didn't make a difference, either way. I was going down, whether I liked it or not.

 

I picked up a stone. I'd seen this done in movies, supposedly a good way to judge the height of any vertical drop. I could do physics calculations in my head and could keep fairly good time, so I could probably determine the height to the metre, if I'd felt so inclined. But that wouldn't matter to me, plummeting downwards. The only thing that would matter were how many seconds until I hit bottom.

 

I tossed the stone over and counted. My heartbeat thumping in my head as I counted the seconds until the clatter of stone on jagged rocks hundreds of feet below. Seven.... thumpthumpthumpthump.... eight.... thumpthum-Clatter. Eight and a bit. Eight and a bit seconds before I found out just how jagged those rocks really are.

 

I turned back and took a few deep breaths. This was it. My last chance to bug out, to go home and return to my life. Could I live with myself? No, I had to do it. With grim determination, I spun, ran and leaped out into thin air.

 

And fell....

 

One.... arms outstretched, holding this pose, I wouldn't go down a flailing coward. My last few moments in this world wouldn't be a frightened animal. No, I'd go proud and strong.

 

Two.... endless aeons between seconds as the air rushed past me. My cheeks stung as they were pulled back. No real point in worrying about comfort here, now.

 

Three... god, what was I doing? Here I was, in midair, partway down a cliff face. If I'd asked myself 10 years ago what I'd be doing in exactly 10 years time, I wouldn't have said this. Things seemed so different back then...

 

Four.... I tried to remain calm. My body, unused to freefall, was belting the panic button with a cricket bat. I fought against it. Fought back the urge to curl up into a little ball. Swallowed the bile taste rising in the back of my throat.

 

Five... past halfway. It wouldn't be long. Only a few seconds. But it seemed like a lifetime. Any moment, it would be a lifetime. Flashing before my eyes.

 

Six... enough. No further. I reached back and pulled the ripcord. The chute unfurled from my pack and got caught in an updraught. My body was jerked upwards. Oooh, I'd feel some of that next winter. I grabbed the two guiding rings, their correct names told to me hours before but long since forgotten. Five seconds of freefall can do that to a person. I saw the collection point, where the landrovers and the rest of my party had gathered. I glided over to them. They were at the end of a long clearing, just perfect for my landing.

 

They say the landing is the hardest part of any fall. They seem to be right far too often for my liking. Even trying to run as I hit the ground, it still hurt like hell. I didn't see the attendants run over to where I'd managed to tangle myself in the chute, but I knew they would come. I hoped one of them had a medkit stocked with morphine.

 

On the flight back home, I was the target of much ridicule. My filthy cowardice was continually referred to and many references about good old chinese sweatshop kid know-how keeping me alive. Sure, I went home mostly redfaced. But I'd done it. I'd beat acrophobia.

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