The Rope Swing

Part 4 - The World Below

By the time we saw what was happening it was too late.

Tom was already running full pelt at the swing.

I tried to grab hold of Victoria but she slipped from my grasp and ran after her brother. 

Though nothing could be done: it had already happened.

We all just stood there as Tom flew high into the night sky, frozen to the spot like statues; in utter disbelief of what we had just seen.

He had actually done it.

All eyes were fixed on him, none dared to look away - not even for a second.

Tom looked so joyful as the wind raced wildly through his hair, the rope held tightly between his hands, legs loosely hugging the branch seat. He turned to wave at us, smiling back from his heavenly perch, oblivious to the concerned shouts from his sister - living for just that one moment of bravery.

Then I noticed something change in Tom as the swing arced back towards the cliff top. His smile seemed to drop, in its place a rising crescent of fear and bewilderment spread across his pale face like wildfire. Those beautiful, minute features, admired by all who looked upon him, contorted slowly into a grotesque parody. For the first time in my life, I saw that Tom was scared.

Whether his grip had slipped or he'd let go too soon - it didn't matter one bit. He was falling into the midnight darkness, not making a sound as he fell.

Time slowed to a standstill in those precious moments that followed: birds muffled their song, swaying branches high above turned to stone - the world had stopped spinning. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally came back to our senses and were human once more.

We ran to the edge, looking into the black void below without hope in our hearts.

Most of the panicking crowd ran off with Victoria to find help, though I later heard that some instead returned to the sanctuary of their comfy warm beds, and who could blame then? In the ensuing chaos, my thoughts remained clear: I would not abandon my dear old friend.

I looked around to see that I wasn't alone, standing behind me was Paul Tompkins from the year above, looking as lost and bewildered as I did. I didn't really know him that well but right then I needed all the help I could get.

Paul had found a flashlight in the bottom of his rucksack, left over from a camping trip on Dartmoor, he was sure that there was still a bit of power left in it. Careful to watch our steps, we hung near the cliff edge and shone it on to the world below.

We tried to keep the faith but after twenty minutes or so later, the torchlight began to dim with each sweep of the valley. The light was fading at an alarming rate, and so was Paul's hopes that we'd ever find Tom. To my lasting regret, I gave Paul an earful even though he was just trying to help, giving him his cue to leave. Making no attempt to hide his heavy footsteps as he hurried back down the track towards town.

Now on my own, a very stupid and dangerous idea circled endlessly through my head...

I grasped the torch firmly between my teeth, making use of the dim light as I clambered down the side of the old Oak and onto the sloping shelf below. The thick, gnarly roots of the dying tree made for great improvised footholds, though I still managed to cut myself on the rocky outcrops of flint that protruded from all angles.

Once I lost sight of the clifftop that initial confidence receded. I felt mortal once again. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all.

Now that the ledges were getting narrower and narrower than the last, I could move only by shimmying very slowly one step a time, my back thrust against the cold encompassing rock.

Before I had time to realise just how stupid a mistake I'd made, the ground beneath me gave way, sending me tumbling into whatever hell was below.

I thought only of Victoria as the world turned black around me.