|
Why I Write
When I write, I draw on my experiences as a woman with a painful past, a rapturous wife and mother, a world traveler, and a spiritualist. For me, writing is an art form. Like an artist, the work becomes more than I imagined it would be. When I set out to write a story with a particular idea or character in mind, words I cannot claim as my own flow from a magical and mysterious place through me and onto paper. The work takes on a life of its own; it is living art. The process fascinates me, satiates me, and makes my life more meaningful.
Please read my stories! If you would like to offer me feedback on my work, please click here and sign up for a free membership: https://heftynicki.Writing.com
I hope to see you there!
|
15 For 15 Entries ~ January 2011 #716066 added January 21, 2011 at 8:23am
Restrictions: None
Jan 20 ~ Paragliding
On the lip of the cliff, with the plains of KwaZulu-Natal sweeping below to meet the African sky at the horizon, Blade savored the rush of blood pounding through his veins.
He was a junkie. And like all addicts, he stomped down that truth with steel-toed boot force. He could control himself. He chose his activities with free will. Sure, he could take them or leave them; of course he could. But why leave them? Why not go for it, live life large?
The argument on the plane with Jennifer replayed over and over in his mind, threatening his moment. He focused on the exhilaration, but her voice echoed in his head, fought to be heard. Damn her! Okay, yes. Maybe he took unnecessary risks. But life was full of risks, the part of life worth living, that is.
He lifted his chin, jutted it toward the abyss. She should be here, right now, supporting him. Hell, she made the trip from Los Angeles. But she'd tried to "reason" with him for the whole twenty hour flight. She brought up the diving mishap, and the extreme snow boarding accident. Then it'd gotten ugly. Maybe it was good she wasn't here now. Fuck her.
"Let's do this thing!" he called over his shoulder.
Three men from the paragliding company approached him. Two lifted him, clumsily. The third pulled the wheelchair back and out of the way.
"Okay, sir. The wind is good today. We place you on ramp, and when wind is good, very good, we let you slide down. You fly. Okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. Come on. It's go time!"
As the wind caught his sail and Blade floated above the abyss, one man turned to the other. "How is he going to land?"
The second man shrugged. "He just pay double and tell me he'd work it out." |
© Copyright 2011 NickiD89 (UN: heftynicki at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
NickiD89 has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
