The jump

He stared at the miniature cars beneath and swallowed. His throat was dry, his mind spun like a merry-go-round. He could not think straight. The repetitive voices kept coming back; no matter how hard he tried to push them away. How his own thoughts fought relentlessly to keep them away. It was no use. It was a fact. He was useless. He tried not to ponder. There was no use turning back. Well, at least there was something he’s brave enough to do. He’d been a chicken his whole life. This time he’s not. Closing his eyes, he let himself go.

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This entry was posted in Writing.

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