Hi! Welcome to the June WEP challenge, Close Encounters of the Third Kind using the sci-fi movie as the prompt.
I'm sharing a nail biter I wrote in 2010 and have never shared on my blog. I think it encapsulates a close encounter. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think in the comments.
Gone in 60 Seconds
I panic.
Forget everything
I’ve been taught.
Okay, 60 seconds
of free falling has been sweet, but now the parachute is supposed to take up
the slack, but guess what? Yep. Just my luck. The shanky thing gets itself
stuck and here I go, free falling, free screaming, heading for the ground at a
great rate of knots.
Tug! Tug! Tug!
It’s stuck all
right! I lose all hope of hearing that thunderous whoosh, seeing that gentle
puff of parachute silk billowing above me. Nah, this time it’s just me, the sky
and that old enemy, gravity. I’m no longer floating. I’m dropping towards the
ground like a lead ball, faster, faster. I force my eyes open again and try to
reason with myself. I probably have another 60 seconds before impact.
Think! Think!
Think!
I manoeuvre my body back into the arch
position which isn’t easy when my limbs are stiff with terror. In training I’ve
been shown how you can direct your flight in free fall, so with a great deal of
effort I pull my arms slightly back at the shoulders and straighten my legs as
I’ve been taught. My heart begins to thump again. The adrenalin rushes through
me.
I know what to do
and I do it.
I move backwards
by extending my arms and bending my knees like I’m trying to touch the back of
my head with my heels. From this position I can make a left or right turn by
twisting my upper body slightly. You might be wondering why I’m bothering but
I’d been told in training for my solo jump that you can survive a free fall
from up to 50,000 feet if you stay in control and hey, I’m only at 11,000 feet
so I must be in with a chance, don’t you think? A survival float, they call it.
Choose your drop zone. I know I’ll have a better chance of survival if I land on
a nice soft spot. Or in deep water. Or even on a car or a rooftop. Anything but
cement. God, not that…
My tactics seem to be working. I have slowed
my speed and am heading towards the beach. Of course I can’t hear the waves
crashing or the seagulls calling or the surfers cursing when someone drops in—all
I hear is the sound of wind screaming in my ears and my desperate prayers ‘…help
me, help me, oh God, oh Godddd...’ About 30 seconds to go.
You know how they
say your life flashes before you as you drown, well, I’m drowning in wind and extreme
velocity. My life is flashing before me like a flickering movie in fast forward.
I see my children,
their trusting baby faces. I see my daughter’s triumphant smile smeared with my
bright red lipstick. I see my son’s joyous high five when he won his soccer
game. I flash on their birthday parties and am sorry I won’t be there to share
any more. Nor will they share mine. Today they’ll be waiting for me to come
home from ‘Mummy’s air jump all by herself’ so they can yell ‘Surprise! Clever
Mummy!’ I see my husband, his face white with shock when I told him I intend to
go solo for my thirtieth. ‘That’s far too dangerous!’ he’d yelled. ‘For God’s
sake, you have children. You can’t keep jumping out of planes! You’ll be sorry!’
I’m sorry now. I
wasn’t then. The one time I’d been determined to do something just for myself,
look what happens! Any moment now. Yikes, here comes the ground, faster,
faster.
I’m aware of the
beach flashing by. It always lifts my spirits, gives me strength.
I won’t make it. The
waves, too far away, in and out, in and out, the rhythm of life. Ah, life.
Relax! Relax! More chance if you relax! Bend your knees! Aim for that soft,
billowy sand just ahead. Dip shoulder to the left, get ready for impact. Drop
zone. Drop zone. Sand dune. Yes! Careening towards me-colours
blending-whirling-blue-green-sandy-use balls of feet-point toes-swish-thwomp-roll-bounce-cover
head-arms-close-to-ears-use elbows-to-protect-head-hold-tight-grassy-knoll-coming-thump-thump-thump-that
hurt-ooh-ah-blessed blackness…
‘Hey! Over here! Quick! She’s alive! Call Emergency!’
©Denise Covey 2010 – Fast Fiction – Gone in 60 seconds