Cliff Hanger

It was life or death.

Fate had brought him to this wild, inhospitable place.

His survival rested on one decision, to jump or not to jump.

This was a critical moment, for he could live, or he could die.

Jump and he might survive, but to do nothing and remain here, meant certain death.

Across the valley floor, moving away from him in the distance, he noticed an irregular column of ant-like orange figures, slowly ascending the spine of a steep, rocky outcrop.

It was a mountain rescue team accompanied by a bright yellow helicopter.

In vain he tried to cry out for help, but his weakened voice was drowned by the swirling wind as the weather closed in around him.

They were as oblivious to his ordeal, as he was to theirs.

He stood at the edge of the perpendicular cliff face, some four hundred feet from the top.

Below him, was another eight hundred feet of sheer blind terror, a vertical wall of limestone, punctuated by the occasional dwarf sapling of equally condemned, occasional vegetation.

Eight feet away, to the right-hand side, across a bottomless void, lay the end of an impossibly dangerous scree slope.

This ran right over the cliff edge, like a jagged, frozen waterfall, down to oblivion.

The slippery, stony incline, was part of a steep gully, galloping up to the freedom of the mountain ridge above.

“Focus!”

“Aim for the scree slope and you will be safe.”

Trembling, he balanced on the very edge of the precipice.  

His heart rate increased dramatically, uncontrollably, until he could hear it pounding inside his ears.

Involuntarily, his head and whole body vibrated and began to shake.

Panic gave way to fear, and in turn, to horror, as he summoned the courage to look down. 

His mind was now racing; everything had been going so well.

He asked himself, “How has it come to this?”

Yesterday there had been two of them trapped in this place, but now he stood alone.

At the bottom of the cliff lay the dead body of his older brother.

The certainty of salvation had lain there for the taking.

All he had to do was to get it right, but he failed.

For several hours he lay dying until his battered, bruised, and crumpled body was consumed by the darkest night when death became his friend.

Once again, he looked out at the bright orange coats in the far distance, now much smaller than before, huddling together, against the oncoming storm as the weather worsened.

He made his decision.

Composing himself, he looked up, and then down.

To maximise his opportunity, he tried to stand up to his full height against the fierce, sapping wind.

His heart rate immediately exploded, faster, faster, faster until he started to lean forward, to let gravity take over. He flexed his legs; he took a huge breath of air ……………now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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