The October Music: Fourth Verse - Day 12

A Place Above the Air

            Skydiving had become one of the defining pieces of my life. The nerves as you fly into the sky. The stomach-clench as you approach the door. The weightless, the exhilaration, the wind battering your face and body as you hurtle to the Earth below. It was addictive and I was hooked. Every weekend or so, I would try to do at least one jump, if not one each day over the weekend. It became the reason for making it through a week at my job. I could endure the slings and arrows of menial labor just for the brief few moments of being a bird.

            Then came the last jump and, for the life of me, I don’t know what happened. The same flight, the same pilot, the same instructor. The same nervous first-timers needing reassurance. It was comforting to know I no longer required that emotional buffer from anyone else. I could just strap in and go. I got to the exit, saluted Mike – the instructor that day – and jumped out.

            Something happened. I made it about a foot before I hit something solid and clear. Invisible, really. It didn’t hurt but it startled me. I lay stretched out on this invisible floor for a moment before standing up to survey the surroundings. I was still in the air. I was just standing on what could have been glass, that was all. I could still see the plane flying and people jumping out. I just…wasn’t going anywhere myself.

            To be clear, I wasn’t scared. Not yet. Baffled, more like. The people that jumped after me flew like multi-colored missiles toward the ground. I could even hear their shrieks of delighted surprise. I remembered those cries and missed them. As the plane moved further and further, I saw the last person jump out but something went wrong. I saw their legs twist and bend and then they were twirling in mid-air. I reflexively tried to run and catch them but I smashed into another invisible wall about two feet away. I could only watch as they disappeared from sight, their screams no longer excited.

            Where was I? That fear I mentioned had begun to creep into my chest at that point. Nothing about this made sense. Nothing about any of the situation I found myself in aligned with a single version of reality. I was, effectively, trapped in a box miles above the ground with no idea how to escape.

            That was three months ago. In that time, I’ve seen explosions down below. Gouts of flame and smoke that curls through the clouds. Planes flying past and then dipping down out of sight. I don’t know what’s happening. I haven’t eaten anything. I haven’t slept. I haven’t done my business. Nothing. I’ve only watched. What I do know is that something is starting to smell and I’m terrified that it’s me. I really, truly hope it’s not.

Because if it is, then I know exactly what’s happening. Well, has happened.