Friday, 15 November 2013

Response 6: Falling, falling, falling.

Falling off a precipice, a mountain, a sheer cliff-face. Down, down, down, down into the ravine, hundreds of metres down. Bumping my head as I go, bumping everything, bouncing off jutting rocks, hanging off Rowan tree branches, snapping off said branches, hitting the ground with a hideous thud, making an impression Road Runner style on the valley floor.

Lying at the bottom, not quite dead, but not very alive. Something’s broken, a lot of things are broken, can’t see, must bend my neck, Ouwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! Agony, agony, every move, every centimetre racking my body with sharp, stabbing, crippling pain. 

Blood, blood, blood, all over the place. On my face, in my eyes, up my nose. Pluck up the courage to move, something snaps. Craaaccckkkk! Pain, more pain, ever more pain.

And then, nothing.

A door creaks open. 

My mum’s voice: ‘Tea, dear?’ 

Alright, all over now. 

Until tonight.

1 comment:

  1. Mums and tea make everything better. Sometimes.