I have decided to do NaNoWriMo.(National Novel Writing Month). You are trying to write a 50k manuscript in 30 days. the more you write, the more money is donated to children’s writing programs.
This is what I have so far:
It was a long way to the ground, I mused, staring curiously between my bare toes. Even with my catch-safe, I shouldn’t go doing something reckless like sitting on the edge of a skyscraper’s roof. Falling off this thing would be bad. Almost as bad as getting rotten eggs ground into your hair. Almost. I leaned a little forward, trying to see the people on the sidewalk. They really do look like ants, you know. Little scuttle-ly ant people going about their little ant people business. Though, at this hour of the morning, there weren’t that many on the sidewalks and streets below. The first rays of the sun were just now silhouetting the man-made mountain range that surrounded me. I sat down, sighing gustily, and set my brand-new Supernatural mug down on the ledge beside me. I took in the scenery, breathing deep and then peeked down again.
“”Huh, look at that,” I could feel a smile starting to pull my lips up at the corners, “ I’m sitting on the edge of a skyscraper,” I said aloud, a full blown grin now crinkling my eyes into half-moons. I gazed out over the city of Chicago with a shrug. “No point in worrying about it now, I guess.”
It was a perfect Chicago morning: the sky was clear and brightening quickly in that way that said it would be a spectacular dawn show. The wind was minimal, just enough to ruffle my ponytail against the nape of my neck. The air was cool, crisp but not uncomfortably so. It wasn’t the rich warmth of the South in April but it wasn’t unpleasant either. I found myself at peace for the first time in several weeks.
It wasn’t what most folk would dub ‘peaceful’ but, this morning I’d like to hear anyone contradict me. The first sunbeams of the day were slicing off southeastern windows, sheets of glass spraying red-gold reflections over the inner corridors of the city, those still bundled tight in the gray of pre-dawn. At home, we call them fairy lights, those shimmering refractions of light off any reflective surface. If you catch one, make a wish. I’ve never caught one but I’ve heard it tell that those that do, their wish always comes true.
The breeze slithered past me, its bite drawing me back as it brought a waft of steam from my mug. The scent of fresh, expensive, coffee filled my head. Mug suddenly in hand, I inhaled so deep my nostrils flared with the effort. Mmmm, coffee. I held it for a moment in both hands, savoring its shocking warmth against my palms. It made my toes feel cold. I crossed my ankles, burying the toes of my left foot up the cuff of my right pant leg. Ah, much better. I relished the warmth a second longer before taking a deep pull on the rim. I took my time swallowing, relaxing back onto my elbows, eyes going heavy-lidded with pleasure. I could feel the warmth curling down my throat and inside my belly. It spread out slowly, dulling the chill in my limbs.
It felt good to just let my mind wander about unimpeded. Sitting on top of the world like this I didn’t have to worry about hiding, or lying, or pretending to be something or someone I wasn’t. I didn’t have to care that I wasn’t acting professionally or that so-and –so disapproved of my choice in stationary or felt I was too young or unskilled for the job. Because, tonight, I was going to a concert, I was going to go out and have drinks with friends I hadn’t spoken to in years, and maybe, I’d get a little foxed, just for old time’s sake. Maybe I’d do some dancing, a little karaoke. Never mind, that I hate karaoke, but maybe I’d do it just because I’m in Chicago, it’s the weekend and I’m footloose and fancy free. Anything could happen, I said to myself. Anything.
I was going to forget that Monday brought a trip up to Vancouver, followed by back to back meetings in Los Angeles and Flagstaff on Tuesday. Wednesday meant spending the day traveling to New York City to talk to ONE person for an hour then it was onward to London for a weeklong conference starting on Friday. God, it made me exhausted just thinking about it. I took a quick, bracing swallow of coffee to wash the feeling away. “Nuuuuuhhh,” I groaned falling back to lie flat on the ledge. I lay there, struggling to empty my mind again, feeling the creeping tendrils of dawn touch my bare feet. The intensity of the sun startled me. I sat up on an elbow and looked out at the brilliant shimmer of its light as it seemed to touch everywhere. It was so warm. I downed half the cup in one swallow and flopped back again, completely boneless now. In seconds, I was gone, drifting somewhere between Heaven and Nirvana, caffeinated and blissfully warm.
In my defense, what happened next was completely beyond my ability to control. Perhaps if I hadn’t been zoned out or, you know, not sitting on the edge of a skyscraper, events may not have occurred quite like they did.
Somewhere, off behind me, I heard a soft “pop.” I ignored it. It was simply ambient noise of a lovely morning in Chicago. The wind swept past, taking whatever noises that came after with it. Vaguely, something tingled at the base of my spine but I shoved it down into the back of my mind with both hands. I really, really shouldn’t have.
“AHHHHBBOOOGHALALALUUALALAALALA BOUGALA!”The sound scraped across all my exposed nerve endings and lit me up like a Christmas tree. “AHHhhhhh—” I shrieked, the sound guttering in my throat as I twisted to attack whatever-the-hell it was that had made that god-awful noise, my blood pressure spiking to an unhealthy level in .02 seconds. I didn’t think or wonder or care at that point. I was simply reacting on pure instinct. Forgetting where I was, I tried to roll to a better position. My feet found no purchase on the slick granite of the ledge and my left hand was tight around my forgotten mug. I felt the remainder of the hot liquid spill over my hand and wrist, burning. I jerked sharply and slipped. And then, I fell.
Falling off a high rise is an experience unique unto itself. If I remember correctly, that building was exactly twenty-two and half floors. The half was, of course, the private parking deck underneath it. Did you know it takes you the same number of seconds to fall from a high rise as the number of floors? It’s not an urban legend. It took me almost 23 seconds to hit the sidewalk. For 15 of those 23 seconds I was in shock, unsure of how I got from Point A to Point B. It took me another 6 seconds to figure out what, precisely, had led me to this, er, junction, and the final 2 and a half found me swearing up at the smirking face that watched me from over the edge of the roof. Then, there was nothing. Lights out, compadres.
