The people waved at him from the bridge below, unaware of his current danger. He was several miles off course. The others had already landed safely in the designated field, shouting their triumph into the microphone in his helmet.

“I don’t see you, Mike. Dude, are you still on the plane?” Blaine asked.

He yanked the drawstring for a third time. The parachute would not expel. If he spread his arms and legs, the rushing wind would billow the excess fabric of his oversized jumpsuit and slow his descent. Still, it wouldn’t save him from the sharp-edged rocks in the shallow creek below.

“I’m having technical difficulties.” He gasped as air filled his lungs. “I’m gonna aim for a tree, but if you hear a crash . . .”

“Shit, man.”

He stretched his arms forward and reached for a thin, leafless top branch. As he swooped over the bridge, he heard a child scream, “See, Superman is real!”

word count: 147


2014-10-13-bw-beachamI’m not quite ready to let Mondays Finish the Story go, so to get a bit of closure, I’m revisiting all the prompts I missed. Check out the first if you’re interested.