“Alrighty, Kate! Your first solo! You ready?” Peter had to yell to be heard over the sounds of the airplane’s engines and the noise of the wind rushing past the open door. “Let’s do this!” After months of private lessons, Kate was ready to do her first solo dive. Her training had left her well-prepared for this, and it was time to get the show on the road.
She anxiously stepped towards the doorway, looking nearly two miles straight down. All that was left now was the OK from her instructor. Peter appeared calm as he slowly counted back from three.
With the passing of the final digit, he yelled “Jump!” and Kate abruptly threw herself off of the plane, surrendering her body to the forces of gravity. She seemed to hang there, in the sky, for a split second before plummeting back towards Earth, accelerating every second.
The familiar exhilaration she had felt during her earlier rides swept over her. A feeling of giddiness accompanied the roaring of the air rushing past her ears, as she began to reach her terminal velocity. As much as her parents warned her against ever skydiving, she loved the feeling of flying through the air, even if it was only in one direction. After what felt like several hours, a faraway voice called out from her earpiece. “Okay, Kate, hit the chute.” Snapping back into reality, and still lightheaded with excitement, she grabbed the nearest cord she found and pulled. Nothing happened. Puzzled by this, she pulled again, even harder. She heard a gentle click, followed by a much larger wooshing noise as the whole backpack apparatus flew off of her body, throwing her off balance.
At first she didn’t realize what was happening. Then, slowly, she reached for her headset. “Peter…” she called weakly, “I accidentally…the entire backpack…”
“My god.” She could barely hear Peter’s horrified response over the ringing in her ears. She looked down, at the ground that was rapidly coming up to greet her. Calm down, she told herself. I just have to think. Without warning, a familiar feeling of terror poured over her. She had only felt it once before, but it was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Suddenly, she was six years old.
She was zooming along on her first bike, with her father running along behind her, calling out encouragements.
“Careful, honey!” he hollered. “Don’t go too fast. Your mother will never forgive me if you crash!” he joked.
“It’s okay, daddy! I’m gonna go fast! Watch!” Kate reached the top of the hill and looked down, at the gentle slope as the ground curved to the right. “Kate, wait! I still need to teach you how to brake!” her dad yelled, running up to her. She didn’t hear him. Pushing off with her feet, she blasted down the hill faster than she had ever gone before.—too fast, in fact, to make the turn. Horrified, Kate uttered a single piercing cry as her bike flew off the path.
She closed her eyes and braced for the impact.
The bike dumped her into the gravel ditch on the side of the road. Her screams coupled with her father’s as he ran down the hill to where she lay, bleeding onto the rocks, her bicycle now a crumpled hunk of metal and wire.
Her mom didn’t talk to her dad for the rest of the day. Even afterwards, for years, the ghost of the bike incident hung over her head. Can I go to a party, mom? No! You might get something slipped in your drink! Can I go to a movie? Sure, but be home by 9. But the movie doesn’t end until 10! Sorry, honey, but I just don’t want you hit by a drunk driver.
This was just how things were. Ever since the crash, her parents treated her like she was still a small child, always worried that she would be killed in some freak accident. After all, God had given them a second chance with their only daughter, and they weren’t going to mess up again. For 12 years, Kate always lived in her parents’ constant sight and under their suffocating protection.
So naturally, she sought ways to assert her independence when she finally turned 18. What better way than skydiving?
How ironic, Kate thought, as she plummeted towards a gravel road leading to a barn house. Well, at least they’ll be able to find comfort in the fact that they were right along. Too bad I won’t be there to gloat.
She closed her eyes and braced for the impact.
By Docta Haus
*Arrives at bus stop. Two shady-looking guys are there, shouting at each other. The faint smell of alcohol is in the air*
A: “So I’m thinking of quitting, man. I-I just don’t give a @#$% anymore.”
B: “Yeah, do it! Do it!”
A: “You-you know what? *pauses* I will! I’m… I’m gonna go home and tell [my girlfriend] the news, man!”
B: “Yeah? Oh yeah? Then what? *chuckles*”
A: “You know dude! I’m a be plowin’ that all night!” *both parties find this hilarious, dissolve into drunken laughter*
B: “@#$% man. How you gonna m-make money?”
A: “*Laughing* I-I dunno. What…time is it? I… forgot.”
B: “Uh…let’s ask him. *Chuckling* Hey bro! What time is it?!”
*I [The Docta]
check my phone and reply, staying a good several feet away from them*
B: “$@#% if I know. Y-you’re the one who told me not to drive.”
A: *Laughing again* “You’re so drunk, man!”
B: *Laughing too* “Naw, man, you are!” *hiccups*
*Bus comes around the corner*
B: “Finally…oh my god.”
A: *To the bus driver once the doors open* “Where the @#$% were you?”
*Bus driver is silent*
*I watch the two guys in the window as the bus speeds away, while I wait for the other one.*
Focus; concentrate; if you wanna play piano like Gershwin, you gotta get used to sitting on an uncomfortable wooden bench for an extended period of time; you gotta sit up straight; let your hands rest lightly over the keys, ready to drop one note or two or ten; breathe; the worst thing you can do is get al
l tense; don’t panic; just focus; concentrate; it’s really not that hard; no, don’t do that! What you think this is, a Team Fortress 2 server?; don’t mash the keys down like a cat hopping across the surface; let gravity work on your fingers, and let them fall onto the keys; don’t let your hands tense up; you have wrists you know; roll them so your fingers don’t have to move as far; there, now you’ve got it!; focus; concentrate; look at the dynamics; if the right hand has the melody back off on the left, even if it says to play it forte; ignore the pedal for now; try to feel what the song is supposed to sound like so you know if you mess up; and if you do mess up, keep going, nobody will notice or care; and if they do, so what?; just say you’re improvising, like Gershwin did; focus; concentrate.
