Reach
By Casey Douglass
as part of #fridayflash
The little girl floats
through the air, the tassels on her mittens knocking against the
undersides of her forearms. It is like some graceful slow motion
replay of an Olympic swimmer beginning their dive.
Breathtaking.
Her face is still
smiling, her tongue protruding from pale little lips, her eyes a
sparkle. She is enjoying it!
She reaches the apex of
her flight and then begins to dip, the expression on her face
creaking into a rictus of terror. Now she is scared. Down she falls,
lower and lower. In mere moments, she is beneath the level at which I
myself am standing, a cacophony of noise billowing out behind me.
A deep booming rumble
percusses her landing, but it is not her that causes it. The train
rounds the bend, the noise of lots of tiny metal wheels
rat-a-clatting rat-a-clatting as it draws into the station.
A scream sounds to my
right, punching through my time dilation. I am about to turn but pins
and needles draw my attention to my right arm. I gaze along it trying
to fathom why it should ache so. Realisation breaks my confusion and
I see that it is outstretched, elbow aching, hand grasping, fingers
splayed, the digits partially hiding the girl from my sight.
The train squeals and
churns and chews at the metal tracks as it tries to reduce its
momentum. It fails.
--THE END--
