Leap Of Faith

• Emily Lentini, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2010

“Please remind me again what exactly it is I’m doing up here.” My voice wavered on the last two words.

I could hear Theo sigh loudly from behind me. “You’re here for the experience, Artie. You’re here because you want to do something that you will probably never get to do again. You’re here because I entered myself in a contest and won, and if you don’t hurry up then I’ll never let you be my partner in any extreme adventure competitions that I win ever again.”

I stared down the deep, almost never-ending canyon that shot down hundreds of metres bellow my shoes. I was standing on a platform that jutted out from the side of a rocky cliff face, strapped into all kinds of harnesses and bungee ropes, assessing the huge mass of land that would be racing towards me as soon as I moved forward another inch or so. I leaned forward slightly as a fierce wind whipped my hair about my face, and then retreated back a few steps. I threw a fleeting glance towards my friend standing behind me.

Just one step. Or a leap. That’s all it will take, I thought to myself. Go on. Just close your eyes and take a giant leap, pretend for a moment that you can fly…

But no, I couldn’t do it. I’d just have to disappoint Theo and that was it. I’d just have to turn around, remove my harness and hand it to the instructor, then prepare for the walk of shame past the rest of the courageous adventurers in line, who I imagined would all stare at me with a look of grave disappointment, as a disappointed football-fanatic father might stare at his own son who had just failed to deliver a match-winning goal.
A mocking voice echoed in my mind: You can’t even bungee jump over a measly cliff into a steep canyon to prove your worthiness to your best friend. How shameful, how sad, how embarrassing, how annoying, how –

“Hurry up, Artie.” Theo called out impatiently. “Are you going to stand there for the rest of eternity? Let me know now before I decide to make plans for my future.”
I was now staring at the river flowing steadily at the bottom of the canyon, winding and twisting around the edges of the two cliffs like a long blue snake.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants nervously, again and again, as if this would somehow improve my descent from the platform. This was it, I supposed. I was going to have to jump. An eternity was a very long time, after all.

“Okay, Theo. I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this for the experience. I’m doing this because I’ll probably never get to do it again in my life, and I doing this so that I can come with you on your next extreme adventure experience.”
And with that, I sucked in a big breath, extended my arms out in front of me, and jumped into the air like a bird taking flight.


I couldn’t help the fifteen minutes of hyperventilation that followed my eventual return to the platform.

“Do you want to have another go?” Theo asked me.

I almost fainted at his suggestion.