Only 700 Feet

Chick-ick-ick-ick. Chick-ick-ick.

I wiped my sweaty hands on my faded jeans, and gently, using one finger, pushed up my jaw, then let it go again. Chick-ick-ick.

“Charlene, stop chattering your teeth! You’re making me do it, too! It’s literally contagious, and besides, you’re going to be fine,” my dad grumbled.

“She’s going to be fine? How can you be sure she makes it back alive?” my mom chuckled.

I wailed, “Mom, you are not helping!”

Just then, our car settled into a complete stop. My eyes grew wide with fear and amazement. I looked at what I’ll be jumping off of today. In front of us, a bright orange bridge 700 feet off the ground connected the two sides of a rusty red canyon. A little brown room protruded out from the abandoned bridge, and every few minutes, a tiny dot would jump out, with a white cord flailing around behind them.

“So bungee jumping is my ‘wonderful birthday present,’ huh?” I muttered.

My mom smiled wickedly, and pulled out a $50 American Express gift card. “Something will be waiting here for you after you get rid of your fear of heights.”

I sighed, “Let’s get this over with.” I opened the door to our gray Corolla, and stepped out. The sun was playing peek-a-boo, jumping in and out of the clouds. The October wind swirled around, and I pulled my jacket tight. 

My family and I slowly made our way to the perky bridge. The bridged swayed as I approached it, as if daring me to step on. We stopped suddenly at the edge of the canyon, where land met bridge. I cautiously took a single step onto the million-mile high bridge. A river, a couple light years away, flowed steadily under me, with an occasional wave. Taking a slow breath, I took a second step. And a third. After three and a half steps, it seemed like I was hovering in midair, with nothing to support me. At seven steps, I was wobbling, and started to see stars. On my eleventh step, the world was spinning, and I was shaking uncontrollably. Each of my parents took one of my arms, pulled me across, and dropped me in a heap in front of the tiny room. My mom gave me another one of her wicked smiles while my dad went to get one of the employees. 

I glanced at the people diving off of the platform, screaming for joy and thrill. Could I do this? Something I have been so afraid of for so many years? I tried to imagine me as one of the bungee jumpers, and just couldn’t. I looked at the distance from me and the bottom of the canyon, and it all came back to me.

It was three years ago, in 5th grade. We were going to Mrs. Elliot’s Pumpkin Patch. It wasn’t just a pumpkin patch, it was the pumpkin patch. Mrs. Elliot’s Pumpkin Patch wasn’t a regular farm, but more like a family amusement park, with a huge pumpkin patch and other vegetables that families can harvest. 

My best friends all insisted to go to the Mega Pumpkin Wheel first, a Ferris wheel that stands 225 feet high. Having nothing to do, I followed them. We stepped onto a glittering green capsule, and sat down. The sliding doors closed with a whoosh, and my friends and I took a seat on the bare benches. The center of the yellow wheel creaked, and the capsules jerked into movement. I gripped hard at the window frame, wondering why they didn’t have seat belts and had open windows. 

When our capsule hit 150 feet, I was starting to enjoy myself when the world went against me. A crow flew in the open window, yelling at the top of its lungs. The crow came at me with its mouth apart, ready to peck. I shrieked, and tried to move as far as I can from the bird in the cramped five feet wide capsule. The wild crow forced me to the open window, and in a rush, I slipped and fell with my stomach on the edge of the window. And there I was, dangling 200 feet off the ground, in a life-or-death situation. Even though my friends did drag me back onto the capsule, I never forgot the feeling of looking down at the ground like a bird-without wings.

I snapped out of my flashback while a bulky man stepped out of the little room, and motioned me to go in. I stumbled over. The man grabbed a harness from a hook, and started buckling it on me. 

“So, ever done this before?” he asked, not bothering to look at me.

“N-n-o-o-o,” I chattered.

“Scared?”

“Yes!”

“Well, when I tell you to, you can jump. Bungee jumping is like flying. Oh, and try to keep your legs together, okay?” he explained.

I looked at my proud parents with brilliant smiles on their faces through the open door, and then at my little brother, Charlie, sandwiched between my parents, gasping for air. I couldn’t help but grin. My legs started quivering again, and I gave myself a self-insurance that I would be alright. What was I so afraid of anyways? I tried to lie to myself.

“You are good to go,” the large man said.

I took a deep breath, and raised one leg to jump, but then saw a crow fly across the sky, perfectly parallel to the ground. I quickly pulled my leg back. The bird’s black, piercing eyes looked in my direction, as to say, Loser! I thought of the Ferris wheel, the fun I always miss during carnivals and fairs, and mostly, my acrophobia. I drew in a short breath, a breath of change, and dove into the air. And besides, it was only 700 feet.

Reviews

[tashavoase]

I love the way this story I basically about her facing her fear of heights. I also like the way that, at the beginning, she's quite plainly terrified but, by the last sentence, she says that it was only 700ft which shows how she got over her fear.
I really like the way you've written this and I'll definitely read some more of your stuff.

[ayele marie dalmeida]

i love how cool her parents are for helping her face her fears
love the way you pointed out that fear is what we as human being must fear the most , can't wait to read the rest of the story. fell free to send me read request , i love giving feedback :) great story so far