short fiction

Aug
21
2012

Photo by scottsnyde on www. sxc.hu

After 15 minutes of floundering around like a giraffe on ice, I decided it was now or never. If I was going to tackle the hill, I had to do it before my nerve abandoned me. I sat on the bench and waited for the walkway to clear, and then I took off.

My arms flew through the air like a drowning man grasping for the surface and I suddenly saw nothing but trees, a trash can, and what appeared to be a very chilly pond. I wondered if the screams coming from my mouth sounded as much like a 5-year-old girl to onlookers as they did to me.

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