• Chapter One:
    Winded[/b


    Air rushed past me, fierce, but not so much that it hurt. The wind was harsh enough for me to respect it, but not enough for me to fear it. The currents whipped at my face-clinging to my clothes and skin and hair, tugging at it, as if unwilling to let go.

    I looked down at the city below me. New York, New York-the place of my dreams. I loved the order of big cities, the neat stacks and rows of buildings, the majesty of skyscrapers, the waving and criss-crossing of backed up streets. The city was beautiful-the windows of expensive stores gleaming as you walked down the crowded streets. It was even more magnificent from above. Even zooming towards the sharp points of buildings, rushing closer and closer to the paved cement sidewalks, I felt like I had all the time in the world.

    When you’re young, you always hear older people discussing what a tricky thing time is, but you only understand it when you’re seasoned enough to have due dates more important than the expiration date on the school milk cartons. You feel the days of the week rush past on a regular basis. Then you experience it when important things come along, and time seems to slow down. When important things happen, things like due dates, and marriage. Important things like death.

    I knew I was going to die. Everyone knows that, after a certain amount of time or because of certain events, we all come to the end of our cycle. It was inevitable. I had known that sooner or later, my soul would leave this earth, at least according to what I believed. It was all a matter of time. Oh, I knew, better than most anything, that I would die eventually. I just didn’t suspect I was going to go like this.

    I tossed and turned, the wind getting harsh, throwing me around like an old rag doll. The once steady breeze had become less predictable now, but, at the same time, seemed to be set upon one thing: hurling me to my doom at an alarming pace. Time sped back up again, back to its normal tempo, giving me almost no time to collect my thoughts. The wind grabbed at me, not like a caressing touch anymore. More like an angry fist; a slap in the face; a belly-flop into water. It hit me repeatedly, slamming me from all directions. Just when I’d recovered from the last wave, another gust of fanatic wind would crush me, blinding me endlessly.

    This was nothing like the skydiving hobby I had clung to. Nothing like the sensation of falling freely through the open sky, untouched. Falling freely, but with a certain, unfailing sense of safety. The safety was gone. Gone with the dive instructor, gone with the parachute, gone with the video camera taping the proceedings.

    The ground was getting closer now--I could make out the individual cars. My ears throbbed, ringing from the wind pelting me from all sides. My back and shoulders ached from falling from the airplane, sore from hitting the sides of the open door on the way out.

    The push of the air was flipping me over, forcing my back to my beloved city. I struggled to turn myself over, promising myself that the last thing I would see would be a gleaming law firm, or a designer-brand shoe store, or even the dirty New York sidewalk. It didn’t matter, as long as it was a part of the big city.

    I finally managed to manipulate the air enough to turn myself back towards the people, the cars. I was getting closer. It couldn’t be long now.

    I saw a few people turn their heads upward, as if my presence had been announced by the gods. It was then that I realized, my face flushing in embarrassment, that I was screaming. But, it was not a shriek of fear, not a cry for help, but a yell of expectation. A sound to illustrate the thrill that wiggled up my spine, making my toes tingle and my stomach flutter.

    The people were pointing, their faces mirroring one another. Expressions of confusion seemed to be plastered to each on of their faces, wondering why someone would be skydiving in such a central part of the city. Slowly, individually, each confused face transformed into one of fear as they realized I wasn’t skydiving. As they realized there was no parachute. As they realized I was falling to death.

    They shouted at one another, clearing a space. Making room for me to fall to my end. A handful of the bystanders were digging through their Gucci bags to pull out cell phones to call the police or paramedics. Some just wanted to get pictures they could upload to their FaceBook and MySpace pages.

    I was only seconds from hitting the concrete, but I smiled, bracing myself for the impact. The last thing I remembered of my life as a human was the blissful smile that coated my lips, and my feeling of utter confusion as the world went black around me.