The Fall

He fell on his head.

It was a simple start down a non-expert ski run. The day was beautiful, the sky blue. The snow matched a brilliant white. "Ahhhh," he expunged, his mouth steaming. The man-made mist dissolved away and the man planted his ski pole - his opposite leg pushing off, down the mountain.

The powder gave way like a crunching, fluffy cloud as the man's body pushed through it. The cold stung like a welcome gift against his raw, shaved face. His mouth opened to smile and his perfect white teeth caught the icy chill of the moving air. 'Life doesn't get any better than this', he thought to himself as he planted his poles into the abyss of powder. He did that while he tried to coerce his legs not to separate in the unforgiving dense snow so as to snap him apart like a wishbone.

Snow began to shallow, and the man found himself at the rise of crest, which looked down upon the whole, beautiful mountain. Lulled by skier's high, the man was almost disappointed the run was so graceful and easy. He fancied himself an emerging expert.

He was further embarrassed by the fall.

CRUNCH. It was all too fast for him to feel his head sink gently in the snow. He saw it coming. His gut knew before the impact shot through his spine.

His feet came to rest on top of the snow. Commanding all his extremities to move, to flutter, to wiggle just a little bit was met with a resounding trumpet of failure. This was it. This was how it was going to be. Paralyzed from the neck down. Forever. And ever. Oh God, not even the use of his upper body. Facial movements would be all that's left. He thought about how, hopefully his bodily functions weren't compromised in any way. But mostly he moaned. It was a sad, mournful moan, like a dog crying at the moon. "Help," he tried to yell, but found that difficult. "help," he tried again, even smaller.

There was no one around. It was a big mountain and the day was new. So he just lay there.

About an hour and a million thoughts later, many of which were the same reoccurring one he wished he didn't have, the man heard a sound. A clanking, mechanical sound, coming down the mountain above him. He tried to shift his head but it wouldn't go far enough. He realized it must be one of the snow-groomers, industrial size no doubt. This was Grand Mountain, the biggest ski mountain in the Western United States. And its finest was coming down the mountain, right at him.

The fearful thought slowly sunk in, becoming reality. Things could actually get much worse here. No time for self-pity, this situation had suddenly become extremely serious. He opened his mouth, reassured by the ability to draw air from his lungs, using it full-force. "Help!", he screamed. He did it again and again. But the machine just got louder.

As it plowed over his body, the man - for a split second - felt a wave of peace wash over him. He thought about how he wouldn't ever have to bother with a life that he didn't want now. His life flashing before his eyes would only ever be that. It was the last good moment he would bask in, before the stampeding machine shredded his last asset through to the brain, which didn't feel a thing, but relayed to the rest of the body exactly what was going on.

Introduction and Mission Statement:

Welcome.

My prevailing thought is that all blogs should have some kind of theme to them. I'm a writer and I wanted to use this blog specifically as a writing outlet. You know - no pressure or strings about it, at least not as many as on my other written adventures. That's what you get for getting my stuff for free.

What do I write about?

Usually darker, unsettling things I am afraid. Oh, they're interesting. I'm not whiny or a complainer. You likely won't catch me writing about horrible skeletons in my closet. It's not like that, Thank God. No, whatever it is I promise to serve you with interesting stories and tidbits, as many as I can muster.