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Falling

Wind was blowing on my face hard, and it was cold, and I felt like I was falling, and I relaxed. I took in smells, smells of clouds. I tasted them, I felt them, I heard them, the pleasant white in the sky. It felt like an otherworldly experience. I opened my eyes.

I was falling out of a plane with no parachute. I kept on falling. It didn't look like I was about to stop any time soon.

I tried to think. It didn't work. It didn't most of the time. Falling out of the sky was part of "most of the time."

I kept falling.

I tried to think a second time. This time a thought entered my head. It could have been about anything, because it died of loneliness. It could have been about rabbits, or pumpkins, or my favorite holiday, which is Christmas, if you should ever ask.

I kept falling.

I tried to think a third time. This time, a number of thoughts entered my head. One of them was "You are falling from the sky." Another one told me "You need to find a way to live." Another thought screamed both of those at once. I listened to all three of them, and decided that if I was going to focus on one of them, it would've been the screaming one, because it was the loudest. I don't like things that are loud. They give me headaches.

I kept falling.

This thought would not stop screaming. "YOU ARE FALLING FROM THE SKY! YOU NEED TO FIND A WAY TO LIVE!" It irritated me. I tried to make it be quiet, but it wouldn't. I supposed I would have to stop falling from the sky, and live, too, which was not going to be easy. But I would try my hardest.

I kept falling.

I looked around. It didn't make me fall any slower. I checked what I was wearing. It was what I would normally wear, a T-shirt, some jeans, things under those jeans, socks, but no shoes. I noticed that my feet were cold.

I kept falling.

I checked my pockets, hoping that I could devise some brilliant device out of the perfect parts I would have in my pockets. Crushed raspberries, I learned, are extremely ineffective if you're trying to safe yourself from falling out of a plane without a parachute. I did have a walnut, which I ate. It tasted okay, like a walnut should.

I kept falling.

I looked below me. There was what looked like a country house owned by a somewhat wealthy family, and that was because it was a country house owned by a somewhat wealthy family. I had a great view of it. I wish I had my camera. It might have been more effective than a crushed raspberry, and it even takes pictures.

I kept falling.

This somewhat wealthy family had a small lake, or maybe it was a pool made to look like a lake, or maybe it was a pool of poison that the somewhat wealthy family would feed to people that came by, because no one was to know of their secret lake filled with poison. In a bet, most people would have bet on it being a small lake. I bet on it too. Most people is smart.

I kept falling.

The thought had been screaming this whole time. It began yelling words that were easy to understand. By the time I was close to death, it sounded like a little girl screaming in a dodge-ball game after she has just had a ball thrown right next to her head. The thought said no words that I could make out any longer, and proceeded to just shriek. I tried it too. It made me feel better.

I kept falling.

I approached the lake of poison from the sky and angled myself, through some unknown form of instinct, so that I would land in this lake. It seemed to work. I seemed to land in this lake and I seemed to dive to the bottom. I seemed to not be dead, which must mean I was alive, and I also wasn't falling from the sky. The thought sat down and enjoyed some brain fluids, as if it were tea.

Imagine starting at the top of Mount Everest, but there isn't anything below you for the 29,028 feet of Mount Everest. You can't see 29,028 feet below you, so you don't know what's there. It could be one thousand jagged rocks, ready to impale you many, many times, after you fall that distance. It could be a city, where you might land on a taxi driver that speaks a language of his own, that is literally only his. It could be the middle of an ocean. In my case, it was a pool that I had no hope of landing in.

You begin to fall this 29,028 feet, and you fall this distance. It is certainly very cold at 29,028 feet, and will stay that way perhaps until you are 150 feet from almost certain doom, and falling 150 feet happens rather quickly. I would know. It just happened. You will be cold, and your feet are part of you. Now imagine falling, feet first, into a non-heated lake from 29,028 feet. (I repeat the word feet, by different definitions, only to confuse you. Confused is how I feel most of the time.) Your feet would not only be cold, but they would hurt a lot. This is why I could not walk well after I got out of the lake.

I learned that this lake was not made of poison. In fact, it tasted exactly like water, and had no permanent effects on my health. I was shaking wildly afterwards, however, which may have been a side-effect of the fall from the sky, or perhaps from drinking what could have been a gallon of water-poison.

I stepped out of the lake. I realized my body thought the lake was freezing. That may have been because it was. I never found out. I was shivering from the cold, the shock, and the shivery water-poison.

I must have looked ridiculous. I laughed at that, right then, at my own expense. The laugh sounded dead, or dying.

Then white puffs, like clouds, began to roll onto the world. It was pleasant. I suddenly felt as I had before. I smelled the clouds again, and I tasted them. Those beautiful, white clouds, like misty puffs across the sky. I felt them touch my skin, and I heard the sound of soft wind. But my eyes were open this time, and I saw them, and only them, and nothing else. It was a world of clouds.

I then heard the grass embrace something, and it was me, and I was unconscious.
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