Adventuring
Realising the gravity of the situation
Opening their eyes, momentarily blinded by the unfiltered morning sun, they took in the beauty of what was before them. Rugged cliffs faces that stretched up, supporting snow dusted ledges, while giant pines, clung desperately to the rocky terrain.
Looking down, they were struck by the vastness of the valley below and a chill ran through their body as their brain calculated just how far the fall would be. It would certainly be their last.
Then their body moved involuntarily. A ripping sound echoed across the valley. They looked up only to see their parachute silk come away.
About the Creator
Phil Flannery
Damn it, I'm 61 now, which means I'm into my fourth year on Vocal, I have an interesting collection of stories. I love the Challenges and enter, when I can, but this has become a lovely hobby.
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More stories from Phil Flannery and writers in Fiction and other communities.
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It sat there staring back at me, threatening me with a blankness I found terrifying. The longer it held my gaze, the deeper the black abyss seemed to grow in the pit of my stomach. I could feel my brain tightening with rage. My nerves, like live wires, prickled at the thought of my imminent demise.
By Phil Flanneryabout a year ago in Fiction
Vale Perficientur
"My tears need a minute to find the edges of my face. If you'll please excuse me." The sarcasm stabbed into Juliana’s heart. Antonia glared at her from the pit of the Lyceum as her student fought to hold back tears that had nothing to do with the pain in her fingers. “You’re better than this, again.”
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The Road Sage The city beat with a chaotic cadence. Sounding horns entwined with removed sirens, an orchestra of urban life. However, in the midst of the concrete wilderness, settled in an overlooked corner, sat Elias, the Road Sage. Roosted on a drain carton exterior of a thrift store, his weathered confrontation, carved with an outline of life's encounters, held an ever-enduring shrewdness. His worn dress, an embroidered artwork of bungled colors, talked of a life lived past fabric belonging.
By Abdul Qayyumabout 15 hours ago in Fiction
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
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Comments (4)
I love your descriptive language here!
Wow! Great descriptions. It reminded me of living in Colorado not too long ago. Thank you for sharing this.
This was awesomeeee!
Hi Phil ~ Good enough to quit your day-job! Jay