Prompt: write about someone falling.
Tags: Writing Exercise, Prompt, Falling Down, Rushing

Sun: Gone.

Temperature: Freezing.

Air: Wet.

Me: Late.

As usual.

“Why did I have to oversleep?” I ask myself repeatedly as I scramble through the laundry basket, looking for a pair of clean socks. Those clothes have been there for over two weeks now, just waiting to be attended to. “I’ll clean that up when I get home after the audition. It’ll help me get over whatever the outcome might be,” I lie to myself. Those clothes will be there until World War III. I find the missing sock under the bed next to the basket. I grab it, bring it to my nose, and sniff it. It’s clean enough. I sit on the corner of the bed and slip it on my left foot then bounce up as I release a giant exhale through my mouth.

I leave the bedroom to join the living room to grab a bottle of water thinking about how I can get very dehydrated in stressful situations. I’ve been waiting for seven months for an opportunity like this. I pick up the full bottle that is standing on the coffee table and take a sip until I see my 4 years-old Egyptian Mau sharpening his claws opposite me on my grandma’s antique hand-carved Rosewood sofa. I’ve always hated that sofa, it’s scratchy and smells of old fabric. It doesn’t even fit in my retro living room but my guests find it fancy and it’s a great conversation starter.

“MOWSUS! GET OFF GRAM’S COUCH RIGHT NOW!” I yelled as if he understands English.

Mowsus glances at me taking no notice, as usual, then continues clawing away the only inheritance my beloved grandmother left me before she herself left. She was the only person who believed in me.

“I don’t have time for this,” I say as I wave my arm at him and head to the front door.

I grab my coat and keys which I toss in my handbag. I unhook my lucky dark-green plaid scarf from behind the door and curl it around my neck. I slide in my boots then walk out stumbling on the front porch as I try to coordinate adjusting my shoes in and putting on my heavy coat. Good thing I have one of those self-locking doors. Practical in this kind of situation, not so much when I get home late and drunk then decide that it’s the perfect time to take out the trash.

As I make big strides towards my car I bring my handbag up to my face in search of the car keys.

Me: Rushing.

Boots: Untied.

Sidewalk: Slippery.

Rock: Evil.

I take a step forward. My foot lands on a rock. I can feel the uneven surface it makes with the flat ground beneath. It wobbles. I continue to put pressure on the same foot even though this movement was against my will. My knee becomes weak as I try to push forward. But it’s too late. My ankle folds and my leg paralyzes. I know that everything is happening in a split second but in that split second, I am aware of everything, making the moment drag out even longer.

In one swift movement, I swing my bag to my left as I open my arms and palms wide in front of me. I close my eyes to brace for the impact. My knees touch the ground and graze it slightly. I can feel it hard and graveled. It stings. Then my hands reach the wet asphalt. I can feel all the little stones pressing into my palms until my elbows are now folded as my body’s weight increases the pressure. My chin hits the ground but my reflexes make me lift my head to protect my face from caving in from the gravity, making it worse. As my chin scrapes the ground, I turn my face slightly so my cheek will break the fall. I felt every surface that’s in contact with my body. I try to move, something, anything. But the shock made it impossible. Once I accepted what has just happened, I close my eyes and tears start flowing through them, dripping on my cheek mixing with the drizzling rain. I turn my body to the same side my cheek was lying on. I can feel how much effort this simple task demanded of my body. I curl into the fetal position and think of the futility of my efforts until I wasn’t able to think anymore.

Hurt and broken, I lie on the ground.