Recreation

It was a brisk day in August. The wind tossed Jim’s curly dark hair back and forth as he gazed out past the edge of the cliff. Rain dampened his clothes and hair as it trickled down from above. The sea below churned restlessly like a gaping maw with thousands of pearl-white teeth. He gripped the hang glider reassuringly and charged towards the cliff.

Jim plunged over the edge and a sense of vertigo suddenly overtook him. "After all these years, my stomach still pulls an illegal U-turn whenever I do this," he thought. The feeling began to subside as Jim’s craft leveled and smoothed its descent.

The panoramic view of the sea below revealed a raging beast through the gray featureless mask of rainfall. The wind and rain blasted Jims face and covered it with a blanketing numbness. He loved every minute of it.

The aircraft gracefully soared despite mitigating winds and the falling rain. Jim felt the difficulties and scrapes in the rest of his life fade to obscurity. He lived in the instant and in the world around him, while all else became distant in the back of his mind. His sole challenge was placed squarely in front of him, and he knew he was more than able to meet it.

Jim squabbled with the wind currents as they attempted to bend him to their will. He struggled to convert their insistence to his gain, using their force but slightly shifting the result. These skirmishes were less frightening than enjoyable to Jim as he darted about in the wind.

Suddenly, events took a turn for the worst. The winds picked up and hail began to drum on the hang glider. A frown dark as the brewing storm crossed Jim’s face. It was then that he ascertained the severity of his situation.

The drumming of the hail was now a fierce rhythmic pounding. Despite his stubbornness and pride, Jim realized it was definitely the time to turn around. "He who fights and runs away . . ." Jim’s thought trailed off as he focused his mind.

Then it happened. The hang glider dropped so suddenly, Jim had to fight his protesting stomach so as to retain his lunch. The cause, though unknown, was the least of his concerns at the time.

Plummeting, his bright blue eyes wide, his curly black hair plastered to the sides of his head by rain, jaw tightened, Jim fought to keep the damaged hang glider aloft. The storm beat furiously at the small aircraft as the pilot defiantly challenged it. His worn knuckles were ghost-white with tension. Through the ordeal, a grim smile, though decidedly out of place, was firmly set in his visage.

The wind toyed with the aircraft more than ever as it twisted and shivered towards the ground. Jim had escaped the vicious torrent of the sea, and now faced solid earth with no chance to retreat or evade it. His mind toiled on the situation.

Damn, I’ve had it.

Then the ground rushed up to meet him and darkness accompanied impact.

Jim awakened to coarse sand pressing against the left side of his face. He slowly opened his eyes to see a beach stretching out before him. The sky was still of a gloomy shade, although the hail had lessened into a gentle mist of rain. The grainy sand was dampened from the precipitation and took on the color of a dreary brown. Waves crashed into the shore at unsteady intervals, interrupting the low din of the falling rain.

Jim tried to look around, but couldn’t manage the strength to move his head. "Probably just as well, I doubt things look good anyway," he thought to himself. His whole body ached. "Not surprising, considering what I just went through," Jim mused with a mental grimace. He lightly tested his arm muscles and was met with sharp pain on his left side. Then he carefully attempted to move his legs. Although heavily bruised and most likely scraped in a few areas, they seemed functional.

Jim lay motionless on the spot for a time. He couldn’t tell whether it was five minutes or five hours. The weather had remained much the same, and daylight was still present. Jim’s soreness had subsided and was now a dull ache. With considerable effort, he slowly pushed himself up from the ground using his right arm and his legs. Head liberated from the sand, Jim could now turn his head to see the base of the towering cliffs before him. Suddenly he felt his left arm strike a metal object and the unbearable pain faded as his senses quickly abandoned him.

Creative Writing Contest

2001 winners