Who’ll fall?
The sensation of free-falling through the air. What runs through your mind? I’ve felt it once, an enormous thrill. A milligram injection of pure adrenaline through your whole body. Senses overloaded with a deafening roar, blistering acceleration, lacerating bare skin and the weight of what your eyes behold, horizon to horizon. Quickly, all senses meld into one sensation. Falling. The weight of your body hurtling through the air, supported by absolutely nothing. The beauty that receives you, ‘come quickly’ they say. The thought of the solid ground accelerating towards you. Wind rushes past your body, through your body. Let your mind trail behind, counting the passing seconds. How many left to go?
The parachute strapped to your back, your one lifeline, reassures you there is a continuation. You have everything ahead of you. There’s no conceivable end to your story today. Will everything change when there’s nothing to hold on to?
Alternatively, you have a realisation. A final destination. An oncoming meeting at the Threshold, telling of sudden violence. There’s no cheating, no lying and no way around it. The sun basked rock has been ready to receive you, waiting for thousands of years. Inevitable meeting of flesh and limestone. White cliffs. Sentinels, gatekeepers standing far above you, watch your hurtling body. The veiled ferryman anchored close to the rocks below, ready at the prow. Blue sky arches above, not a cloud in the sky. A beautiful day like any other. A faint imperceptible smile radiates in the day.
Get Ian Lynch’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
A moment by myself. Frozen in front of the computer screens, the only source of light in the room. Green phosphor illuminates my hands, my body. Fingers type away, agonising over the next few lines. Cricket chirps reach me faintly, muffled through glass. An indistinguishable moment in the night. Stale room air that hints at damp corners. Fingers poised on the keyboard. A disconcerting moment where no thoughts appear. Trying to put more ideas onto page, but I am emptied out. I toss my head back and catch the green glow on the ceiling. all the cogs and machinery lie still. I catch an indiscernible noise behind me. I turn around but there’s no clear source. Imagined? It slowly crescendos, reaching a shrill whistle cutting straight through the room. Not imagined, but from what realm of possibility? The sound of falling through air. Whistling grows into a roar. The screen before me glows brighter. As bright as sunlight, shining onto rocks below.
The only moment of my life to flash before me. No loved ones to greet me. No frozen moments in the sun. No butterflies cutting through a sunbeam. An indiscernible moment in the past. The only to reach me as I am falling so far, alive for just a moment longer.
Returning to one.
Life breathed into mud. Being. Life returning to mud.








