Girl's POV
The cold mountain air bites at the inside of my dry throat. My aching hands are covered in scratches and sores. When I am picked up from the painfully close peak of the mountain, I'll show these to everyone who asks, "Aren't you that girl..." I can see the top of the mountain, it's well within my reach by now. I'm scared to death, but I climb on until there is only one more step, one more ledge, until I can stand on the top.
I find a groove to put my left foot in. I push myself up with my legs. The weight of my body is becoming more and more impossible to lift. I lift my right hand and find the perfect ledge to hang on to. Just as I lift my left hand to grab onto the top, the ledge I thought was perfect breaks.
Man's POV
I'm almost to the end of the opera, and my work form. I hear a loud thump outside my door. It's probably just a rock falling from the ledge of the mountain. I live so high up on a ledge hanging off of it, rocks fall on and around my house all the time. I look out the window and see the quiet town below. Everyone's probably still asleep. I glance at the wall clock: 5:13.
I squeeze into my unpleasantly tight suit for work, and almost suffocate myself tying the tie. I eat my daily breakfast of cereal, without the milk. It always seems to go bad faster when you're in this little town. After I walk back to my living room and grab my briefcase, I open the door.
To my horror, a dead girl is lying, broken and mangled, on my doorstep.
Mother's POV
I can't sleep. I've been up all night waiting for the call from the helicopter squad, telling me my daughter made the climb, and she's waiting for me at the depot. I look at my clock, it's 5:13 already. I'm so tired, but I just can't sleep. My wall phone starts to ring. I'm so nervous to pick up but I know I have to. I answer. The phone drops to the floor.
YOU ARE READING
Falling
Short StoryA short story capturing three different points of view, a girl's, a man's, and a mother's, as a tragic accident occurs in a small mountain village.
