Spiky Stuff

It is my first attempt at paragliding, and the thrill has captured every pore of my being.

I feel like God, looking down at the world with its tiny creatures and dwellings. The sea looks like a pond in eternity, with hidden secrets in its depth. Another balloon passes me by, and I see two figures twirled together in excitement. One is familiar, whom I had wanted to be with.

I freeze mid-air, like those icicles I had seen, two years ago, while on a holiday with him. The spikes can cut really deep.

I am not God any more.

(100 words)


Friday Fictioneers

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