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If at First You Don't Fail
The building rushed by me as I fell headlong, light glinting off the glass windows. I had but a single chance. I could see the awning below me and I tried to angle my body in the slipstream to make sure I would hit it.
I saw the green and white stripes growing before me as I tucked myself into a ball and braced for the impact. I felt a stunning blow against my back and had an instant to hear, with horror, the sound of canvas failing under a sudden load and tearing and splitting with a sound like a gunshot or breaking bones—
The building rushed by as I tumbled, my balance never to be recovered. I had only two chances; the first one was coming up fast, a flagpole that would be just within my reach. I had to hope that I would not build up too much momentum before I could reach it, it would do me no good if it were ripped from my grasp.
I saw the sun gleaming along the length of the weathered aluminum as the wind whistled past my ears. I strove to time it right, reached for the pole, felt the hot metal against my palms as my fingers closed around it, and the sharp tug as it took my weight for one heart-saving instant.
But of course the pole was not meant to take a human’s weight, only that of a flag. The pole snapped free from its mounting and I plummeted again—
I teetered at the building’s edge, swiftly losing my balance. I had only three chances, or so was my intuition; my senses always got unusually keen in times of danger. I sought for a handhold. I could see an ancient metal vent, its rusty sharp edges looked quite uninviting. The brick rim at the edge looked more stable, but the mortar looked cracked and not quite stable enough.
I looked up and saw a cable passing overhead, the power lead for the nearby neon sign. I seized it even as I overbalanced, and as I put more weight on it, the rusted clips that held it to the sign frame tore free and the cable suddenly snapped. Sparks flew into my face and I let go in a panic, starting to fall—
She held the gun in a steady grip, her eyes cool as a snake’s. It should be easy to talk my way out of this, I thought, I could feel I had four chances, and my intuition has never been wrong about that before.
But something was up this time. I might have had four chances, but they weren’t adding up to much in my estimation.
“Anything you want to say, before I make you walk?” she snarled, the wind tugging at her blazer.
I considered all the cocky lines that had sprung to my mind, the urge to try to slap the gun from her hand, leaping behind that shed there while bullets sang around me, or trusting to my baby blue eyes and her tender instincts…
As she stared at me, I felt my four chances suddenly contract to one. It was the damndest thing I’d felt in my life, and it led me to a choice I’d never wanted to make. But here it was, and I had to trust my hunches.
I let go of my pride. “I’m sorry. You were right; I was wrong. Please forgive me.”
I saw the green and white stripes growing before me as I tucked myself into a ball and braced for the impact. I felt a stunning blow against my back and had an instant to hear, with horror, the sound of canvas failing under a sudden load and tearing and splitting with a sound like a gunshot or breaking bones—
The building rushed by as I tumbled, my balance never to be recovered. I had only two chances; the first one was coming up fast, a flagpole that would be just within my reach. I had to hope that I would not build up too much momentum before I could reach it, it would do me no good if it were ripped from my grasp.
I saw the sun gleaming along the length of the weathered aluminum as the wind whistled past my ears. I strove to time it right, reached for the pole, felt the hot metal against my palms as my fingers closed around it, and the sharp tug as it took my weight for one heart-saving instant.
But of course the pole was not meant to take a human’s weight, only that of a flag. The pole snapped free from its mounting and I plummeted again—
I teetered at the building’s edge, swiftly losing my balance. I had only three chances, or so was my intuition; my senses always got unusually keen in times of danger. I sought for a handhold. I could see an ancient metal vent, its rusty sharp edges looked quite uninviting. The brick rim at the edge looked more stable, but the mortar looked cracked and not quite stable enough.
I looked up and saw a cable passing overhead, the power lead for the nearby neon sign. I seized it even as I overbalanced, and as I put more weight on it, the rusted clips that held it to the sign frame tore free and the cable suddenly snapped. Sparks flew into my face and I let go in a panic, starting to fall—
She held the gun in a steady grip, her eyes cool as a snake’s. It should be easy to talk my way out of this, I thought, I could feel I had four chances, and my intuition has never been wrong about that before.
But something was up this time. I might have had four chances, but they weren’t adding up to much in my estimation.
“Anything you want to say, before I make you walk?” she snarled, the wind tugging at her blazer.
I considered all the cocky lines that had sprung to my mind, the urge to try to slap the gun from her hand, leaping behind that shed there while bullets sang around me, or trusting to my baby blue eyes and her tender instincts…
As she stared at me, I felt my four chances suddenly contract to one. It was the damndest thing I’d felt in my life, and it led me to a choice I’d never wanted to make. But here it was, and I had to trust my hunches.
I let go of my pride. “I’m sorry. You were right; I was wrong. Please forgive me.”
This reminds me of one from an earlier round where someone is attacked in an alley and can see the immediate future of whatever choice he makes.
A couple of minor editing things: a fair number of comma splices, and see how many times you use "look," particularly in the 3rd scene.
I'm not quite sure what to make of it either. It seems like a backward story, where we're stepping back through time to see each thing he tried to save his life. But all of them failed, leading to the previous scene occurring, and that makes me think the intent was to say the final scene also failed, yet I don't get that sense from it. I don't even really see the connection, since he didn't get shot, though maybe his plan to run behind the shed is what led to him falling? It still seems to set up the scenario that his apology led to his death, as the implication all along had been that each choice failed. I'd even wondered if he was going through a time loop somehow and knowing what didn't work the previous iteration. In that case, I could see him seeing the apology as another correction to his strategy. Maybe it works that way? I think it's just not clear enough what the rules are and if the final scene is supposed to be a happy ending that heads off the previous scenes.
A couple of minor editing things: a fair number of comma splices, and see how many times you use "look," particularly in the 3rd scene.
I'm not quite sure what to make of it either. It seems like a backward story, where we're stepping back through time to see each thing he tried to save his life. But all of them failed, leading to the previous scene occurring, and that makes me think the intent was to say the final scene also failed, yet I don't get that sense from it. I don't even really see the connection, since he didn't get shot, though maybe his plan to run behind the shed is what led to him falling? It still seems to set up the scenario that his apology led to his death, as the implication all along had been that each choice failed. I'd even wondered if he was going through a time loop somehow and knowing what didn't work the previous iteration. In that case, I could see him seeing the apology as another correction to his strategy. Maybe it works that way? I think it's just not clear enough what the rules are and if the final scene is supposed to be a happy ending that heads off the previous scenes.
The problem of writing a comment after >>Pascoite did is that he often has already spelt out all that was meaningful. :/
I agree you should vary your sentences. I’m not sure if it is a flaw or if it is done purposefully to emphasise the repetitiveness of each scene. If this is the case, then it misses the point.
So, err… I’m a bit lost too. I agree this seems to go backward in time, but I’m not sure how the successive falls are connected to the final scene, nor what the guy has done to warrant being held at gunpoint. It vaguely reminds me of a short story written by one of my favourites authors, Dino Buzzati, who, unfortunately, is almost unknown in the English-speaking world, short story in which a young girl jumps from the top of a high-rise building. Her fall is a metaphor for her life, and while she’s young and pretty at first, she grows older and uglier which each passing second that she falls. She also suddenly realises that she’s not alone to fall, but the space around the skyscraper is full of people diving down to their doom. The short story is called ‘La ragazza che precipita’ in Italian (i.e. ‘The girl who falls').
Nothing such here. So I’m left quite unsatisfied.
I agree you should vary your sentences. I’m not sure if it is a flaw or if it is done purposefully to emphasise the repetitiveness of each scene. If this is the case, then it misses the point.
So, err… I’m a bit lost too. I agree this seems to go backward in time, but I’m not sure how the successive falls are connected to the final scene, nor what the guy has done to warrant being held at gunpoint. It vaguely reminds me of a short story written by one of my favourites authors, Dino Buzzati, who, unfortunately, is almost unknown in the English-speaking world, short story in which a young girl jumps from the top of a high-rise building. Her fall is a metaphor for her life, and while she’s young and pretty at first, she grows older and uglier which each passing second that she falls. She also suddenly realises that she’s not alone to fall, but the space around the skyscraper is full of people diving down to their doom. The short story is called ‘La ragazza che precipita’ in Italian (i.e. ‘The girl who falls').
Nothing such here. So I’m left quite unsatisfied.