Fall Flash Festival—I’ll Fall For You

Happy October 1st! Autumn has always been my favorite time of year. And to help celebrate, I have written this for the Fall Flash Festival hosted by Eric Martell and Daniel Swenson. You can join us by clicking here.

I’ll Fall For You, 353 Words, By Joni Lynn

She felt it the moment the brisk autumn wind rustled through the trees. It was almost time. The wise one had warned her; had told her the stories. So many lost. So many dead. Former shells of what they once were—reduced to dust.

She was blessed with more strength than the others. Each day of holding on was a small victory. But death whispered its rhythmic cadence insistently. It skittered and scurried around her, but always she danced out of reach.

Should she give in? There was freedom in death. And yet she didn’t want to be forgotten like all the others. She yearned for more. Wasn’t there more to life than ceasing to exist and merely lying in the cold ground? She refused to be trampled underfoot. Death would not take her; she would choose her own death on her own terms and go out in a blaze of glory.

***

It was a gray and misty autumn day. The wind was relentless as she fought to maintain her precarious hold. The screaming below was deafening. It would be quick. Painless. She was too tired to hold on. Another gust of wind shot over her—urging her toward the edge. And then she let go. Time seemed to stand still as she plummeted through the air. The wind carried her until she fell upon the cold, dying grass.

She felt no pain. Just the suppleness ebbing away from her skin. She was going to wither away. The stories were true. Then something grabbed her, and she felt the cold, brisk wind upon her skin once more.

She dared to hope.

***

The cold liquid felt good upon her skin. She could feel the moisture surrounding her, infusing her with emollients. She wasn’t sure if she was alive or dead. But she felt good.

She wept when a piercing sensation pulsed through her. And then the warm rays of the sun bathed her in its light, warming her veins. She blazed a brilliant red as she dangled from the gossamer ribbon on the windowpane.

She had survived.