The Fall
It was lonely down here.
My mind kept returning to that fact, despite the cacophony of other things my body was trying to tell me. Somewhere amidst my plummeting blood pressure and the pool of blood amassing beneath me were the remnants of my leg. I vaguely remember feeling the bones crunch and snap on the way down, bashing into a cliff face repeatedly will do that, I suppose. I’m fairly certain more than a few of my ribs were fractured as well, there might even be a gash on my head, I know I bounced a few times, and granite is anything but soft.
In essence, my entire body was screaming at me while simultaneously dumping adrenaline into my bloodstream to try and keep me aware enough to do something about my situation. Laying prone, staring up at a speckled white slab of nature and a gentle pink sky, I wondered if there really was anything I could do about this. The reptilian part of my brain was screaming for me to do something, anything, to go hide in a corner and lick my wounds and hope for another day of scurrying around in the dirt, but the rest of my consciousness was wondering what happened if no one came, if no one saw me go down, if this was it. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved to some extent: no more bills, no more errands to run daily, no more trying to wedge “me” time in between socializing with other people. It’s not that I didn’t like people, I have plenty of friends, but there comes a point of exhaustion where even relaxing in the presence of others is taxing.
I think that’s why I came out here in the first place, to escape the monotony, break out of my regularly scheduled programming for a bit, do some hiking, “return to nature”, all that crap. Even attempts to get away from it all fell in line with some stereotype. My entire body throbbed, and I could feel pain creeping its way back into my periphery. Nothing so easy as a headache coming on gently either, this was a semi-truck getting ready to come through my cardboard defenses. If I was sat up, I think I would have felt dizzy. Instead, the sky above me contorted itself and my vision began to blur and falter.
I swallowed, my throat was dry. I think my organs were dry too, thankfully the stones weren’t parched for the time being. Again my mind turned to how empty and barren this canyon was. How long had it been since another person had set foot down here? A day, a month, years? Maybe I’m the first visitor in a millennia? Perhaps the canyon was lonely and needed someone to keep it company. The thought sounded insane, even to my panicked mind, but it was hard to deny that I felt compelled to come over here. In some grand, cosmic, mystical sense, I felt drawn to this lonely valley of stone. I couldn’t deny that I felt some camaraderie emanating from it. The idea of a canyon, a large, empty crevice in the earth that couldn’t be filled, struck a familiar chord in me. Maybe it just wanted a friend.
I heard a distant crack, and a trickle of dust rained down on my face. It was followed by some pebbles, and then a good sized rock which landed on my chest, detonating my nerve endings and nearly forcing my unconsciousness. I almost wish it had, because the next rock was easy to see as it fell. I realized in that instant: I was the person invading the canyon’s space. It had been perfectly fine being alone, and now I was intruding, without even the decency to get up and leave.
I was no friend, I was lunch.
My mind kept returning to that fact, despite the cacophony of other things my body was trying to tell me. Somewhere amidst my plummeting blood pressure and the pool of blood amassing beneath me were the remnants of my leg. I vaguely remember feeling the bones crunch and snap on the way down, bashing into a cliff face repeatedly will do that, I suppose. I’m fairly certain more than a few of my ribs were fractured as well, there might even be a gash on my head, I know I bounced a few times, and granite is anything but soft.
In essence, my entire body was screaming at me while simultaneously dumping adrenaline into my bloodstream to try and keep me aware enough to do something about my situation. Laying prone, staring up at a speckled white slab of nature and a gentle pink sky, I wondered if there really was anything I could do about this. The reptilian part of my brain was screaming for me to do something, anything, to go hide in a corner and lick my wounds and hope for another day of scurrying around in the dirt, but the rest of my consciousness was wondering what happened if no one came, if no one saw me go down, if this was it. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved to some extent: no more bills, no more errands to run daily, no more trying to wedge “me” time in between socializing with other people. It’s not that I didn’t like people, I have plenty of friends, but there comes a point of exhaustion where even relaxing in the presence of others is taxing.
I think that’s why I came out here in the first place, to escape the monotony, break out of my regularly scheduled programming for a bit, do some hiking, “return to nature”, all that crap. Even attempts to get away from it all fell in line with some stereotype. My entire body throbbed, and I could feel pain creeping its way back into my periphery. Nothing so easy as a headache coming on gently either, this was a semi-truck getting ready to come through my cardboard defenses. If I was sat up, I think I would have felt dizzy. Instead, the sky above me contorted itself and my vision began to blur and falter.
I swallowed, my throat was dry. I think my organs were dry too, thankfully the stones weren’t parched for the time being. Again my mind turned to how empty and barren this canyon was. How long had it been since another person had set foot down here? A day, a month, years? Maybe I’m the first visitor in a millennia? Perhaps the canyon was lonely and needed someone to keep it company. The thought sounded insane, even to my panicked mind, but it was hard to deny that I felt compelled to come over here. In some grand, cosmic, mystical sense, I felt drawn to this lonely valley of stone. I couldn’t deny that I felt some camaraderie emanating from it. The idea of a canyon, a large, empty crevice in the earth that couldn’t be filled, struck a familiar chord in me. Maybe it just wanted a friend.
I heard a distant crack, and a trickle of dust rained down on my face. It was followed by some pebbles, and then a good sized rock which landed on my chest, detonating my nerve endings and nearly forcing my unconsciousness. I almost wish it had, because the next rock was easy to see as it fell. I realized in that instant: I was the person invading the canyon’s space. It had been perfectly fine being alone, and now I was intruding, without even the decency to get up and leave.
I was no friend, I was lunch.
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