Falling

• Kasey Whitehall, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2013

I look around. Flat, barren land is behind me, water that is shimmering like jewels ahead of me. I can smell the salt in the air and right now, I am mesmerised. The wind is rushing past me, so strong that I could be bowled over at any second. The crash of the waves against the 60 meter cliffs resounds around me. I can almost taste the sea on my tongue. I feel like I am worlds away from reality.

I take two steps forward. I am now only a meter away from the edge. My mind goes into overdrive, searching my memories for a reason to not go through with this, but it is pointless. This is inevitable.

I close the distance between the edge and me. There is approximately 3.2 centimetres between the drop and my toes. The wind is blowing my hair in front of my face, blocking my view of the ocean.

I dive off the edge of the cliffs as if I am at the swimming pool. I am no longer diving, I am falling. Instead of panicking, I stay still and enjoy the sensation, the sensation of time slowing down around me, the sensation of falling.

I don't die instantly like I expect. Now I am experiencing the sensation of floating, but I am still falling. And suddenly, it isn't an enjoyable sensation anymore, it is a terrifying one.

It's like the darkness is a monster dragging me down into the depths of its dark lair. I thrash around, trying to fight off something that isn't there. My energy is slowly diminishing and my movements are slowing down. I feel my eyes close, but it still looks the same... dark.