He stood on the edge and breathed. His eyes closed, he felt the wind against his cheeks, the cement under his feet, and the emptiness in front of him, pulling at him like an eager lover.

He heard the screeches of tiers, the laughter of children, and the honk of horns. The city throbbed around, a living, pulsing organism.

Whispers and shouts rose up from below. People were watching him.

They were waiting for him to fall.

His heard pounded in his chest. It had to be now, before someone came up to stop him. Before he lost his courage.

A thought rushed through his mind – Flying is just throwing yourself at the ground and missing. He smiled.

And stepped out into nothing.

He felt the wind against his cheeks, the air under his feet, and the emptiness around him.

He opened his eyes and laughed.

He was flying.

Word Count: 149

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Grant-Sud for providing the prompt photo!

30 thoughts on “Missing

Add yours

  1. Very powerful piece here, well done! I think it’s important to think about the relief some people believe they’ll feel as they end their lives… I tried to emulate that in my own story, although I didn’t manage it in even nearly as an effective way as you have here! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. That’s a little disturbing. I like to think the Firemen were down below with the net encouraging him to jump before the flames got too close. Turning it into jumping for survival.

    Liked by 1 person

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