Tag: falling

  • Lost Footing

    Wendy clung to the rock wall twenty feet off the ground. Ripped and bleeding fingernails weren’t her biggest problem. The tingling in her fingertips was.  She bit her lip, fighting for control.

    “One normal date,” she mumbled. “Is that too much to ask?”

    “Are you okay?” asked Jason.

    The cutest guy in school graced her with a smile that only increased her racing heart. How could she not say yes to a rock climbing date? So what if she had the agility of a glue stick. He was hot and she was the weird girl no one talked to. But rock climbing? What was she thinking?

    Every muscle ached, trembled as she searched for a new handgrip. There were none in sight. The tingling ran up her arm. Panic began to close in. She chanced a glance at Jason and his bulging muscles only to find him studying her. There was no laughter in his look, only concern.

    “Wendy, don’t worry about falling. You’re on a belay line.”

    “I don’t want to quit. My foot is slipping.”

    He scrambled sideways across the rock like a squirrel. The moment he touched her, the tingling flamed through her body. She gasped and began to fall. Jason grabbed her hand. A blinding flash sucked them away.

    Instead of dangling from a rock wall, they landed in a wooded clearing. So much for normal. Tears stung Wendy’s eyes. She waited for Jason’s condemnation, the fear that others had displayed at her powers.

    He stared at her, his deep-brown eyes wide. Then he smiled. “Wow. That was one heck of a jolt. Can’t wait to see what you do on our second date.”

  • Déjà View

    Ads flashed on the giant screens, mesmerizing even in broad daylight. The bright blue sky did nothing to ease Carl’s tension. It was the same as his dream, all of it. The flag blowing in the wind, the coke ad, even the people walking down the street. Soon a dog walker would trip over the rottweiler’s leash. Carl closed his eyes, struggling to stay calm, but the images continued, like the nightmare he’d had for months. It always ended with a girl in a red dress falling to her death from the tower. Tormented, he finally left his Kansas farm and drove all the way to New York. He had to stop it. He had to save her.

    The bottle of Coors on the screen began to pour itself into a glass. If he didn’t reach the top of the tower soon, it would be too late. He raced into the building, passed the security guard dozing at the door. Alarms began to blare as Carl charged up the stairwell. He reached the roof, lungs bursting, legs protesting. The girl in the red dress stood perched on the edge of the roof, hair blowing over her face, leaning toward her death. Carl lunged catching her ankle as she fell. He couldn’t let her die, not again.

    “Let go of me you idiot. You’re spoiling the stunt.”

    Carl looked down, noticing the inflated crash pad on the ground and the camera crews set up around the square. Damned defective psychic powers.