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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Adult · #1527678
'Heights' is about a man's run from life.
There was a chance in my life I didn’t take. Now, I’m taking it. Standing on the edge of the cliff, I see myself drowning. Choking on infinite amounts of salty water, I see my arms flailing hopelessly in panic; cold water weighing me down, making me numb. But this is just my fear of heights.



I was in my car, driving, to where? I don’t remember. I wonder if I may have passed any red lights. Years of office work have been weighing me down. Our society is like a sheep with a corporate shepherd. You put in so many hours for another man’s vision, but none for your own, only to hope to retire comfortably. And for what? With a life full of regrets? Today, I’m not having that tuna sandwich. I’m going to keep driving.



I felt that I had somewhere to go, so I kept driving, wondering where I would end up. The scenery became more and more gorgeous as I kept going… or maybe I was actually noticing this time. Living so close to the Rockies, I began to wonder about my last vacation. Whenever that was…



I pull over to appreciate the nature I have just discovered. I get out of the car and take a deep, fulfilling breath of fresh air. An urge crawls into my body. “I AM SAVED!” I yell. This is one office break I will never forget.



Just when I felt like I could never be found, I heard the sound of screeching car tires. I look back and see a black, sleek, expensive looking car. Four men step out, suited up, all mafia-like. As soon as they came into clear view, I felt like cringing. Something was wrong.



The tallest of the four men yells angrily at me: “Eccolo!” They look really mad at me, like I owe them something. But, there must be some kind of mistake. I’ve always lived a quiet and simple life. Maybe a parking ticket or two, but that’s about it. All these explanations came to mind, as they approach me aggressively, but I opted for running. Gunshots follow my every step. So repetitive and constant, it sounds like they’re carrying machine guns.



Lashing through the forest, I realize that a tuna sandwich would’ve been smart. Every step I take feels heavier than the last, like a sensation of weights pulling me down. My muscles are aching, my lungs feel like they are about to burst and beads of sweat are coming from places I never thought I’d sweat from. But I know I must get away from those men, so I push myself forward with every ounce of energy I have. I turn back. They’re starting to fall behind. Maybe I’ll lose them if I just keep running.



The soil is turning to stones, and it is becoming more and more difficult to run with the terrain becoming more uneven. The sun is now beaming directly in my face, not helping the sweat situation. I’ve been trying to run my life, but all I’ve done is run away from it. Now, fate is chasing me.



WOAH! The edge! I skid to a halt at the edge of the cliff. My pen from my shirt pocket, flew out and tumbled down to the bottom of the dangerous ocean waves below, shattering to a million pieces. And here I am with my fear of heights.



Alternatives, alternatives, alternatives. Right now, I’ve got none because the men have caught up and are surrounding me now. What to do, what to do!? There is nothing else to do but the obvious, I guess. I need to take this chance. But do I really want to do that? Dive or get shot. What a decision.



I turn and look down the cliff again, but pull up short, gulping. The men are closing in now, yelling at me in what sounds like Italian. I really don’t belong here. Or maybe this is supposed to mean something. They’re aiming their guns now. Every memory seems to be crashing In on me, like the waves below. Nothing to do now. I must jump. I feel something push me. I open an eye and discover a sense of freedom. It feels so light to soar into the air. Incredibly enough, I feel happy. A gunshot wakes me out of the beautiful feeling and a searing pain jabs into my back. They’ve shot me in mid air. As I sink into the deep blue sea, I force my eyes open for my last view. I’m looking at the top of the cliff. Things look different from here. I realize I was never afraid of heights.
© Copyright 2009 Nate A. Reed (hard-bitten at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1527678-Heights