This post is in response to a blog I’ve found, Bekindrewrite Blog. The rules are more relaxed than the Friday Prediction and the One Word Challenge, no word count, no genre, and five rather vague prompts to pick from, but no less of a challenge. My choice of prompt is Inconvenient death.
There is a link to the site at the end of the piece.
Unfortunately he had made rather a mess of things. Extreme sports do have extreme consequences, and base jumping is, after all, quite extreme.
He hadn’t tried the Spinnaker Tower in Portsmouth before. It is an impressive structure with, he hoped, enough height to enable him to glide across the harbour. The un-roped climb up the outside had caused quite a stir. He had managed to get high enough to avoid the grasping hands of police and security, and continued upwards.
About half way he was feeling the strain. The smooth surface was making the climb difficult, so he rested and watched the TV crews scuttling around, setting up satellite dishes and cameras to record his slow, but steady, progress.
As he set off again, he hadn’t noticed the lace of his trainer was undone. I didn’t say anything. It’s not my place to, you see. He wiped his hands on his shirt and reached for the next bolt head. His foot felt for a foot hold. The loose trainer twisted and slipped, the jolt pulled his hands from their grip.
When I reached him, blood was pooling around his head, his arms and legs splayed at unnatural angles. The local radio station had broken his fall with their van, and he’d bounced on to the concrete. He stood and gazed down at his own crumpled remains. The poor soul was obviously confused. I rested my hand on his shoulder, and he turned to me, fear in his eyes for the first time.