Tag Archives: Short stories

The Murder of Crows – Short Story


List of birds of Western Australia

List of birds of Western Australia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Hey guys, sorry it has been a couple of weeks since my last confession with writing. I have been battling some personal demons, these things don’t know when to quit. But I am back with a short story for my fellow followers about one of my favourite animals, the crow. Hope you enjoy. Comment – rate and please like. Thanks. Your writer friend, me!

The Murder of Crows – Short Story

Peer pressure and wayward ways, we were called the Front yard boys. There was Jimmy “Pecker” Peck, he was our leader. The toughest kid in school but the weakest in his household, every time we met up he always had a fresh-cut or shining sable eye. He was always the first into conflict and last to leave our gang when the streetlights flicked on. Troy “Peeps” Epson, he was the brains of our operation, he let us copy his homework which he handed in on time and received full marks. Don’t let the thick rimmed glasses fool you; he takes them off every time we fight for school yard territory or rep.

Stevie “Ste” Banks, he was the fastest runner in our school and always excelled in every gym lesson we had. He was the only black kid in school, so he hung around with all of us so no one got the wrong impression to make fun of his colour when the adults weren’t around. And for the nineteen thirties Idaho, it was rather a big deal for some eyes.

And then there was me. Derek “Mazie” Maze, second in command to Pecker, we were that must have best friends we finished off each other’s sentences and usually saw eye to eye when it came to having fun and causing mayhem.

In a lined formation we four already bored on a gloriously saffron morning of the best day of the week, Saturday. We walk down the dust alley at the back of our neighbourhood, we hung out there, telling jokes, looking at saucy magazines one of us had stolen from our big brothers, or let Peeps come up with a great ways to cause havoc in our town without getting caught.

“God, I’m already bored and barely even weekend, tell me if this is what getting old means then life can keep it, cause I never want to be bored.” Pecker spat, chucking dust rocks at trash cans.

Peeps lay on the grass opposite the trash cans. I sat wracking my brains, trying to figure out how not to waste this perfect day with my friends. Ste dribbles a half crushed coca cola can with his feet.

I pipe up. “Peeps what’s on your mind buddy?” With his hands placed behind his head he stares up at circling birds.

“Did you know when birds hatch from their eggs they imprint on the first bird or creature they see.”

“That’s it!” I leap from the trash can. “I’ve always wanted a pet but my mom is allergic to cats and dogs and money is kind’a tight but she always said I could have a bird.”

With his arms opened in an order to us all. “Well lets go get Mazie a pet bird.” Pecker urges.

We all arrive at the Gershwin Tree, the biggest tree in all the state. My dad used to tell me the story of the Gershwin Tree before bed. Legend has it the tree only homes crows, crows help deliver souls to the other side once they had passed. Hundred of crows flock around the area where we stand; the tree is a shrine for them all. It feeds and homes them. Caws and flapped wings are all you can hear. More than a dozen birds a keeping watchful eyes on us from the floor as they forage in the ground for worms.

“You want it Mazie, go fetch.” Pecker commands with a pointed finger.

Is it a bad time to reveal this is a bad idea?

“Yeah Mazie, good luck teaching a stupid bird anything buddy, why not get a grass snake their probably hundreds in this field to feed this murder.” Ste amps his smirks comment at me.

One or two birds are fine to be around but when I am climbing up a prison full of these murders my thoughts will begin to race. One – two steps; I am standing in the shadow of the godlike conifer tree. The calls of the birds echo deep within my soul, a wild fear takes hold of my breaths. I reach my hands up and take hold of a furry terracotta branch and begin to hoist myself upwards. Every level of the colossal tree no less than five birds flees their homes from this unwary invader.

“Hurry up you wussy!” The hollered yells egg me onwards and upwards. “Just pick one all ready!”

Deep within the confines of overlapping corbeau branches sits a nest; the sunlight peers in ever so slightly to look upon the secret bird which tweets away chirpily to itself. I creep closer, hanging on for dear life.

“Hey there little guy.” I introduce my head, blocking out the rays of light. The tweeter stands shocked, facing away from me, his left eye glued to my motion. I hesitate for a sec before I unwittingly take which is not mine. My hands clamp around the body of the chirper whilst it squiggles his or her jerking head.

“Hey he’s got one, hurry bring it on down here!” Heckles make my mind made up.

I clamber down the maze of shedding bark and cobwebs with one hand, as I reach the last few meters there is a three meter drop blocking my freedom from this cell of bird droppings and screeches from beyond the grave.

“Just Jump it, don’t be a wimp now Mazie, you’re so close.” I can see in Peckers eyes that was an order. I take in a few breaths before I take a leap into gravity but just as I take flight downwards a blur of atrous feathers clouds my judgement and senses, I plunge down, wafting my arms in a frenzy of defence against my attacker from the sky.

“Mazie, are you okay? Damn bird tried to peck out your eyes.” Ste picks me up to my feet as I shake off the bad landing. “Look…” Peeps sputters crouching in the grass, his unblinking eyes fixed into his cupped hands.

“What is it, Peeps?” The boss ponders. We all gather around him and from up here we all see a lifeless crow chick, my mind musters and flutters into one thousand pieces.

“What have I done?” I confess my soul. “It was an accident Mazie, don’t worry about it, death happens” Pecker assures me with his arm slumped over my shoulders. “Let’s split guys.”

Peeps places the chick back on the fingers of grass gently and shuffles away. I stay staring at the bird; I have done a bad deed. The flaps of wings still circle, an immense fuliginous crow lands on an empty branch, the weight of the bird almost snaps the trees arm. The bird doesn’t break eye contact with me I can see her flammeous eyes burn through me. She begins to screech within her caw, it almost bloodies the ear. The clouds curdle and the suns candle is blown away, a storm is coming. I back away slowly, still in shock. The Front-yard Boys have walked on ahead. I cannot escape this ringing of the bird’s cries. I run.

I ravish the sheets; my mind has too much guilt to rest my soul for the night. I squeeze my eyes tight, hoping the discomfort would keep my eyes closed until daylight. I am too warm under my covers and too cold outside of them. All I can daydream about is the chick dying by my foolish actions.

A thud at my window makes me shoot to an upright position, my eyes widened to the possibility of fear. Clicks and taps at my window make me question to investigate or hide under my covers.

I sluggishly tiptoe from my bed to the window; the curtains hide my glass knocker. Shall I gradually open them or swiftly shift both sides. I stick with the second.  I promptly push the curtains aside. Sitting upon my windowsill sit the crow from earlier, my heart sinks to the depths of despair and my thoughts lead only to revenge upon me. I attempt to frighten off my terror, roaring and throwing plastic soldiers and socks at my window to make the bird take off. I look in her eyes and with her black eyes she glances into my blackened soul.

I give up.

The bird jumps to the centre of the window and turns around, she begins to caw out into the twinkle night sky. I look over the bird into the distance and see the night blur darker. I squint in scrutiny, what is that? The rumble of noise soon becomes apparent; hundreds of crows are coming for me. I stand in stagger; you cannot run from whatever the sky provides.

The claps of tinkered talons chip on my rooftop, creeks from the shabby ceiling and wood walls elongate through my ears as fingers of noise. All of the crows must be working together to unwrap the head of my house. The top corner comes away from my bedroom. I am opened to the elements of raining crows. The mother bird enters my bedroom from the gaping hole, perched on my chest-of-drawers next to my comics and figurines.

“I know why you’re here.” I caw at the crow, she talks back.

An army of wings and black beaks swoop down and clasp on to my pyjamas. They lift me up into the air, through the bird made break. They carry me in through the clouds over the rooftops of my friend’s homes.  I can see the Gershwin Tree in the foreground.

I took her chick from their home and killed it, they kidnapped me to suffer the same fate. This is my own entire fault.

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Filed under 2013, Author, Blog, Blogging, Fairy Tales, Fiction, Literacy, Misc, Short Fiction Stories, Story, Tales, Writer, Writing, Writing #2

Falling In Love


holding hands

Falling In Love

I have finally fell in love and it is about to destroy me on this skyscrapers rooftop.

“Please, get back from the edge!” I shout at her unlistening ears. She has her arms open wide, ready to be caught by deaths grip and be auctioned off to the night at half price for her half-life. She is standing in her spotlight from the night’s sky with the idea of stepping down from her stage to end her final act. The moon is laughing at our light.

“Just look at me; just look at me… please.” The tears free fall from my face. The wind pushes against her, whispering warnings of what is to come as it makes her hair whip and dance. Gravity is the middle man within our triangle but bargaining with his power on his edge, results in death. She must remember me as she is still wearing the white dress I had bought her, if she only she took my arm and we take off to pursue life together again, hand in hand before death do us part. Her heart is cheating beats which is slowly killing her, this is the reasoning behind us being here.

“What will I do if you do this?” I ask her. “You will go on without me.” She replies calmly. This is a nightmare. “But the best dreams happen in real life; don’t you want to be part of that?” She turns her head to the misty rain that has begun to lie upon the horizon making everything distort, life is bleaker than the weather.

“If you do this, food will taste like it has been poisoned, water will seem dry and time will have no hands to save you.” She adds to the rain with her tears.

“Life is like a strand of hair, it can be as long as you want or as short as you need it, isn’t that my decision?” She says quietly to the wind. “In sickness or in Health… I said those words to you and you alone; I never backed away from what I pledged!” I plead to her emotions. So why is this happening. I look at my phone thinking about dialing for help but it is already too late. Love is the killer to the heart, not the sword or arrow but used as a weapon against itself.

“We can get the help, the doctor said there was still time.” I say almost giving up. Whoso findeth a wife, findeth a good thing, but bad things soon follow. I throw my sight to the floor, collapsed eyelids and all.

“Come with me.” She wind-whispers to me, I don’t make eye contact; searching for a new answer to our old problem. Thunder murmurs from behind the black clouds which are passing over head. Weather calls for extreme conditions; angels will fall as the world sits by and listens. I nod slowly, holding back the right thing to say. She holds out the hand I have always held, I walk over and take hold, bringing myself up to her new level of living. I look down, the streets seem like mazes for mice and the people are going about their business, unknowingly.

“We shall take on death together.” I say to her, brushing her hair behind her ear. She wraps her arms around me and presses her head against my chest. “I love you so much. Whither thou goest I will go. That is my purpose.” She says. The destruction of my world is true love I gift upon you, dismantling my heart and sharing the pieces equally between us, who could want more? “I love you too.” I say. We tilt to the side within a deep breath of one another. We fall, still gazing into the eyes we wake up to each morning. It still puts a smile on my face. The roar and scorn of the wind rages passed our ear.

“Any regrets?!” I shout. “Not loving you longer.” She replies. Kissing me as the ground creeps closer. This is how you fall into love.

(Thanks for reading. It was an epic story, wasn’t it?)

Keeping my pen busy….

Alex

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Trapped Within Me!


Richard Mansfield Jekyll

Richard Mansfield Jekyll (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Help me; I am trapped behind the eyes of a weak man. If I wasn’t tied up and made to witness the humiliation and beatings this body takes, I could conquer all. I am the evil you are waiting for; I am the choke of a lodged chicken bone in your throat, I have never eternally taken anyone’s breath otherwise. I am your alter-ego, a personalized Hyde and Jekyll.

I am biding time, the hope for a crossed-wire or malfunction in his control room. He is boy of the light-walkers and I am a shadow-stroller, can you see our dilemma. Now I know you are sitting there with a mopsical expression spread across your chops while reading this and that is a good thing for me, because one day I will show you something not even your mind could comprehend in any fashion. You are your own worst enemy; this is line where we part, where I push myself to my limits, you sit idly by thinking all will come to you while you sit there within your room reading this. While you are taking baby-steps I am base-jumping.

I am an extremely extraterrestrial extinguished extremist and this world is my chessboard, check-mate for this guy. One day the bars will bend and my escape will swallow his soul and drag him into the war zone I have planned, you can imagine a hell of some sort when I write these words, but where I place him in my memory and imagination as a writer, all his horrors will take pieces home with them.

This is no idiolalla, this is me in the truer of senses; his fingers are the vessels to claw myself word by word into your world, as if I were a fictional character coming to life from the page.

Pootly-nautch that’s all this is. I have seen him listen to people speak negative about him and what does he do? He shows them a smile. I have seen this so-called-man live day by day on perhaps tomorrows and others true dreams. What a fool!

Alex, you will be here forever to look through that glass, just as I sit watching, how ironic. No it wasn’t your fault for your childhood. No it wasn’t you fault when you were on our crossroads crossfire, your friends stole your money so you couldn’t buy food and let you almost starve to death and you let them back into do it again. No it’s not your fault you are weak! Why not step over to the darkside once in a while. You have all the tools you need to make this world pay. Why won’t you learn, these people leave you because deep down you cover me up and you do not wish to uncover this disaster. Ask your friends, family and ex’s. They know you have darkness, so why not show them?

I know you can hear me, Alex…. ALEX!

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My Nightmare – Written by Alexander Kennedy


Alex had a nightmare the night before he left for the asylum. He came straight down stairs and wrote it down. It may be short but here it is for you to read. Monster V’s Humans! Who will win? Like, comment and subscribe.

My Nightmare

In a spotlight I stood. Made to watch; whatever it was, I was already scared. The darkness that surrounds the light I was safe in was rather intimidating to look into or think about stepping forth towards. All I know is I must stand and stay, good dog.

My living room, the fear begins to strip away and then the wallpaper does, my defences go straight up, stand still, Tyrannosaurus-Rex rules. Under my living room wallpaper is the skin and bones of everyone I love, slabs of meat flop from the mush wall. Opened eyes stare, the droplets of blood sprinkle like hundreds and thousands. Kass, my evil side stands at the other side of the darkness within a lukewarm-green light, hovering there in a black trench coat and some shades on, his head on a tilt as he smiles. He holds up his cupped hands of hearts.

My safety light expands to reveal my street. Mounds of cocaine and hills of marijuana are stacked on street corners. I fall to my knees; somehow I have beaten within an inch of my life and I am made to watch all the people who have let me down.

The policemen have no eyes; their picket sign said “Kill him on sight.” The people who bullied me huddle in a group, their picket sign states. “Do it again, he’s a pussy!” And behind, everyone else whom has let me down somehow for their benefit or gain through life, hurting me and not batting an eyelid.  Their arrays of picket signs scream “Monster!” “Burn the bastard!” “He doesn’t feel, so why not one more time.” “He loves me, I love him not.” There were some more but my eyes become heavy with tears, I had to close them and think.

I think of myself as a monster or more evil, reflecting within my thoughts I have watched and only one name rung out. Kass…. my evil side.

I open my eyes, I see black boots. I tick my sight upwards, there he stands; a hand out, smile stretched and frown as a crown. The sun is giving the moon the finger over his shoulder.

Time to fight; Kass stands in front, protecting me. He raises his hand to the sky and with a snap of his fingers, the moon swallows the sun. All of my enemies look to the sky in an awful amazement. Monsters crawl from the gutters, behind shadows; all different species. One is a hairy wolf/lion beast with a snake face, jerky movements. Another looks to be a purple dragon covered in spikes, kneeling to me on a car roof. And the rest are blurs and shadow creatures. They all form a line in front of me, my unnatural army. Kass unravels his huge blacken wings.

Roaring’s and screeches ting the ear. They show foot and head for battle with the naturals.

I wake up. Thank you.

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Superhero Fiction – The Birth of a Super-Human – Written by Alexander Kennedy


Hey guys! Firstly, sorry we haven’t been writing for a while but Alex has gone back to the mental institute for a short time, he will be sending me his stories over the post so I can write them out for you. All the people who wish him well I will tell him in my replies back.

This is a SUPER-HUMAN story Alex has always wanted to write and also tell you how to become super-human which is always very handy. Like, comment and subscribe.

The Birth of a Super-Human

The dinning-hall at St Peters High School, reminds me of feeding time for the animals in Africa. The pop-jock-kids are the lions, they devour whatever is placed upon their plates; malevolently scoping out their next gazelle to pounce as they digest and bask in the sun of the football field, after they rip apart their burgers and hot-dogs. We shall leave these beasts alone.

The beautiful make-up-girls, they would be the leopards, majestic to look at but they will eat your very soul in front of everyone if you get too close, sometimes just for kicks; unfeeling and unflinching to every other animal that roams these hallways. They eat their healthy pasta and salads but do divulge in the fatty luxuries we have come to know as the first basic food group, chocolate. Their attack choice on other animals, manipulate, bitch and backstab; their beauty is just a smokescreen, under it they have their taste for virgin blood and paranoid friendships between each other.

And then there’s me and mine, the chimps, day-dreamers and star-gazers. Popularity food for the pop-kids, we are meant for one purpose and one purpose only, to make others look good. Mediocre looks mean a mediocre school-life, we do not stand out in any crowd except the classroom. This is where we come alive and also write our social-subconscious-suicide notes because in the teacher’s eyes we are looked upon as the hopeful but in the cross-eyes of our teenage equals we are deemed hopeless.

And as a chimp we certainly can never have a love with a beautiful girl, one like Alison Stook. If I were a chimp she would still be a Goddess. Here is the kicker of my stance in this place. I am a geek; I look and keep up the act like one as well. A thin exterior and shabby hair, what will I have to offer her, except from love.

“You’re doing that thing again, Chris. Hello, earth to Chris!” Mark snaps his fingers.

I drive my head into my chilidog and chow down.

“Sorry guys, it’s just so hard not to stare at something so… beautiful and perfect and everything I want and need to be with… I’m in trouble, ain’t I?” I tear myself from the dream which could lead to an ass-whoopin’ by friends.

“I mean this seriously mate, just go over and talk to her, she is just a lass at the end of the day.” Danson interjects as he slams down his dinner-tray and taking a seat.

“Well mate, you have no idea what it is like to daydream about the girl of your dreams and would accept every detail about her, it’s not that you can’t dream, it’s because you’re English.” I copy his British accent.

Mark and Danson start blowing kisses at one another; I grab my carton of milk and stand.

“Screw you guys, I’m going to the library to do some research on my next project.” I stomp away from their jeering.

“Bye Bye lover boy!” Mark has one last poke of embarrassment to throw.

I sit there looking at a webpage on how electricity’s metamorphosis on a magnetic field will either dissipate it or make it increase.

“Hi there, it’s Chris, isn’t it? Your friends said you’d probably be here.” A quiet voice takes my attention.

“Hi… Alison…” She is standing in front of me, keep calm; keep calm. “Just working out; I mean I’m doing some working out.” I stunningly stammer.

She sits down with the huge green eager eyes, giggle-some.

“Have you heard of the charity skydiving drive we are holding at the weekend?” She leans closer inwards, I can smell her perfume.

“Vaguely; why?” I keep my answers small to not trip-up my cool composure, not that I had any before.

“Well we are filming it live and we need it to be streamed over the internet to watchers who are funding it but couldn’t be there and also to raise more money online. So I was wondering…”

I jump into her words. “No – No. I can’t jump; I’d be too scared of messing up in the sky.”

She squint’s her eyes and puts on a side smile, brushing her red hair behind her ear. “No, I was wondering if you would come up in the plane with us and take care of the video feeds from all of our cameras and make sure they broadcast properly. “ She brood’s her bottom lip and places her hands in a praying action. All I can do is gawk at her mouth which is outlined with incarnadine lipstick; she is a kaleidoscope to me, all the pretty colors I wish to surround myself with.

“So there’s no jumping for me?” I relieve.  A shake of her head and a bite of her lip say it all. Stop staring – stop staring – stop staring. “Sure thing, I’d happily do it for you.” Finally I acquiesce.

“Great!” With a clap of her hands she leans over to me and kisses me on the cheek. “People always said that you were weird, I don’t really see it.” She ended.

There I sit; the vile view of society has rested upon me, all my nightmares shown to me by the girl of my dreams.

I manage to open the door to Granddad Wilson’s house. He is a hoarder of the old world; the interior to the huge house is the colors of browns and greys, it’s as if I walked into a noir film and I am trapped in rainbow shading clothing.

“Granddad – Granddad, I’m here for my weekly visit.” I lower my tone. “To be bored out of my mind for the next two hours.”

Slipper scuffles shift from the kitchen. I turn and in toddles the oldest guy I know. An aged frown is directed at the floor, through his fickle-rimmed glasses that hang on for life at the end of his nose. A bold mustache he keeps as a statement and high-rising pants that lip his belly.

“I told your mom she did not have to keep sending you every week to look after me, I’m fine. I tell you, if your Grandmother was still alive she’d make sure you never came back around, with her tricks and antics.” He barks as he rests in peace in his chair with a huff of chest infection.

The room is filled with books of ancient history, myths and legends and super-humans; the top book on the pile upon the coffee table is a book about Sumerian tribe links with aliens.

“Yeah, well I’m here now. What’s with all the books?”

He fixes up his glasses. “It’s only taken you almost two decades to ask me. It’s been a hobby of mine since I was about your age. Mostly about people being more than they are. Powers that not even a God could muster-up only within you.”

“Like superheroes?”  I advise, readjusting myself in this cardboard chair.

“You kids and your damn superheroes; I will tell you something, being a superhuman doesn’t come from outer-space or radioactive ants or whatnots. It all comes from within you.” He grumbles as he taps his finger on my chest plate.

“What do you mean, Grandpa?” I confusingly beam.

“Think of yourself as a battery operated machine, son; your emotions produce enough energy to muscle your power of choice; if you feel love or anger to an extreme, your level will rise, a lot like a pulse, whoosh – whoosh – whoosh. Back before man was recorded I believe we had the knowledge of our potential and we used it to shape the world we live in today, but like everything, we got lazy and forgot. We are all superhuman; all we need to know is how to channel ourselves through the obstacles that keep us grounded.” He slurps his syrup styled motioned coffee.

“That’s a nice theory, Granddad. I know I don’t listen to you a lot, but it’s not every day you hear a hypothesis about being super and it actually making sense.” Ponderingly I scope-out a new day-dream in the cobwebbed crevices of the ceiling.

“I mean it has never found me, but you should focus on your feelings in front of mirror to see if anything happens.” He hints as he picks-up the TV guide.

So here I am, my bedroom door barricaded with my straight-bar weight. My shameful body is shown as my T-shirt is thrown on the floor.

“Okay, focus on my feelings and becoming a superhuman.” I psych myself up as I try to look buff in the mirror, lacking the muscle mass.

What could she ever see within me?

I think about why no one had ever crossed their own path before in this instance. If they gained strength, they would probably rob banks or take on the army for fun. If they gained speed, the Olympics could be their golden run to glory. It would probably be best for everyone if they didn’t cross that path.

The want for better overruns all that had been done-wrong upon this place, someone with only pure of heart, someone who believed in right before themselves, could harness this power.

I close my eyes and I can only think of her and soon realize that thinking of such magic could never exist within our world.

As I lay myself down to sleep for the night, I feel let down by my own being; my belief for a better me to have all I want, it’s never that simple. A total apocalypse of the heart.

I get off the bus to a fresh sky of azure. A slight nudge towards the airport hanger by the wind and the alacrity of my fellow student jumpers knocks my thoughts out of sync.

“Sup’ dude! Can you believe this? Finally here, I am shitting my pants but weirdly in a good-way.” Derek chortles.

“So glad I am not jumping.” I shuffle into myself.

“Yeah, we all know why you are doing this and let’s just say we all know that it’s not to do the right thing, unless the right thing has red hair and has a nice rack.” He jeers as we both look over at Alison who is surrounded by her female followers.

From a joined office at the side of the hanger a middle-aged but grey haired man enters. This must be the skydiving teacher, Clark; the female faculty have a thing for.

“Okay, gather round, guys. This is what you have been training for, the time is finally here. Now for those who are jumping today you have to remember the temperature up there is going to be gelid, so precaution is advised at all times. You know what is needed and expected of you all up there; each other’s well-being at all times.” He claps his hands. “Let’s do this!”

She and I create a succinct eye contact, smiles attached; I don’t know what to make of it. Does she fancy me the way I fancy her or is she being polite the way she usually is? Who knows?

Sitting in my corner of the plane, scared out of my wits, I do not know what to make of all the turbulence and jilts. I have a laptop screen, secured down; on-screen there are windows of live-feeds from the cameras located on the helmets of each jumper. It is my job to monitor and link up.

Derek scoots over to my side.

“Wear this.” He hands me a bandanna to cover the bottom part of my face. “When those doors open it is going to get really cold in here, dude.”

“Thanks, man.” I flick through the screens.

“A little woman advice for you, you have to take a risk if you want to know anything, take a leap of faith for your own good.” He punches my upper arm and shifts back over to his position.

Clark comes through from the cockpit, putting on his helmet.

“Two minutes! Check and recheck your pulls and restraints help the person next to you if they need. A horde of twelve people wobble from side-to-side, tugging and pulling on straps, at this angle they remind me of fawns on an icy lake. I make a beeline for her, taking my words and forming them into lascivious manner.

“Hi Chris, thanks for doing this again; will you fasten up my chin strap.” I fiddle around with it. “With this helmet and all the wind, my hair is gonna’ frizz like a bitch.” Alison whinges.

“Perhaps, but I do guarantee, you will still be beautiful within my eyes, Alison.” Her eyes drift down to mine; flutters, this must be the energy my granddad was talking about.

“Okay, everyone in to position!” Clark Crows.

I back up and find my seat and belt, strapping myself in. A line of leapers form to face a formidable monster, Mother Nature. Alison is behind Derek, second to last. She looks down her body, going over all of her straps one more time in her head. She arches her head back up and turns to look at me, a look of love for erstwhile. Rather ironic, I have falling in love; she shows love before she falls.

The door is automatically opened; one by one they hurtle themselves from the aircraft. They fall as cascading tear-drops which reflect magnified within deaths eyes.  For a brief second I do not believe she will do it, confusing burns a fuse of feeling in her heart. I wrap and tie the bandanna around my face.

They jump!

The rush of wind is conducted through the speakers; I focus in with a click on her camera-feed.  Aerodynamically the divers chase away birds.

Camera 11 has some interference, the white noisy lines stretch across the screen. I check the list, the camera is Derek’s; I watch closely on the screen. The camera is pulled from Derek’s helmet by the winds evil fingertips, it’s is catapulted into Alison’s direction, she collides with it and is sent unconsciously into a furious free-falling spiral. My heart within my chest is on the edge of its seat. In the clouds my worst fears come to me in the shape of a frisson.

I cannot just sit here and watch love fall away from me, shall I cry into my hands and give death the satisfaction or shall I take charge of my feelings?  A warm rush of blood tsunami’s through my veins, when it has hit a curved end it backtracks. Is this it? Chris, undo your straps!

I vease my feet forward into the openness of a sky-shot without a parachute. The wind causes brouhaha to the ear, my eyes squint and my heart shudders behind my ribcage. I only make out the jumpers as they have formed a handheld circle within their fall. Two flyers have broken away from the pack, one must be Derek and the other is definitely Alison. Remember what Granddad said. I close my eyes to regain courage.

“Think of yourself as a battery operated machine, son; your emotions produce enough energy to muscle your power of choice; if you feel love or anger to an extreme, your level will rise; a lot like a pulse, whoosh – whoosh – whoosh. ~ We are all superhuman; all we need to know is how to channel ourselves through the obstacles that keep us grounded.”

Alison…

I plunge myself into an arrow position and let gravity do the rest. I soar straight through the handheld-sky diver’s circle, with the speed I have now attained; they all disburse away from one another and pull their shoots. Derek is still trying to reach Alison, nowhere near and thinks of his own life and gives his parachute a lease of life.

She is within my sights and we are within deaths. She is falling back first, her arms and legs wafting around as if she was trying to break-dance.

I chrysalis around her, my right hand becomes a search party for her shoot-strap, it is wrapped around her jackets zip; I yank and yank…. I can’t get it free.

I drill my face into her neck; I do not wish to watch either. Only in death can we be together, rather ironic. Our first and last hug; No… It cannot end like this.

“I love you, Alison!” I scream over the wind.

“Love you, too.” A sleeping beauty replies.

I lock my eyes and focus on the feeling of love, 100 meters to go. Love is my key.

We are both shot through some weedy-twigs and brush, eventually landing in a marshland area.

“What the… I am alive?”

Alison, sleeps on a heap in the mud, we have caused a path of destruction for our landing, but how?

I stand slowly and peel the mud from my hair and face.

What is this new found power? And why do I have it? I guess we will find out…

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