Falling

 By Gabe Nasrallah

 

Dreams of falling always feels so real. The wind blasting midair, the blurred image of motion burning into the subconscious, and of course that indescribable feeling of gravity at work. But when does one know that the depiction of falling is real? How can one decipher dream from reality?

What had once started as a careless game had become a nightmare and it was all Wilson's fault. He ruined our little game and made us all live in fear. The day when he looked over the edge and glanced at me, I saw it on his face. Even he knew he had taken it too far.

Oh, I remember how easily the game had started! It all began is John’s basement. And of course, John and the rest of the guys had no clue that that day would start the end of our lives. That evening we were all having a bit of rather childish fun (a merry difference from the dreary discussion of politics). Ahh, how well it was going, until Wilson shouted,

“Tag! Your it!” He poked his finger roughly into the side of Mark, who looked around with surprise as he had just been chosen The Tagger. Oh, how innocent it had seemed! From that moment, a game of tag was started.  But how could a simple game of tag become something so extraordinarily horrendous you may ask? Well, you will find out.

After Mark had been crowned the first one “it”, we all dispersed from John’s basement. All of us knew how the game worked, and we knew we definitely did not want to be “it”. I sprinted away from that dreaded basement and dashed to my apartment only a mile away, for protection against Mark’s now wretched finger. As I approached my one-room abode, I risked a glance over my shoulder. Mark was in hot pursuit. He was looking for an easy chance to make me the next one "it”. I forced my head forward and continued my desperate escape. His footsteps were getting louder and louder! Every inch I ran, he was gaining on me! I looked back one last time only to be face-to-face with the tagger. But under my feet was a familiar walkway. We were running right towards my doorstep! The cunning thing I did next was something I smile at even to this day. Once I reached the porch, I side stepped and let Mark go crashing into my front door. A grin inched its way onto my face as I saw Mark slam his body into the door and cripple to the ground. His blond hair flopped onto the wood as he was knocked unconscious. But did I stay and help him? Of course not! Why would I risk being tagged, just for the aid of my once friend? I had won. For now.

This was only the first day of our little game. We all believed it would end that night in the basement, but the mind can deceive you. Tag kept going. And although we acted like it didn’t matter, we lived our game. There was nowhere we went without being paranoid that a finger could suddenly hit us, and that would be that. We watched our backs at all times. But when things really started to heat up, Wilson ruled. He would do anything to not be “it.” Anything. Once, when I had tagged John, John set his eyes upon getting Wilson. John told me that he would go to Wilson’s house that night and tag him while he was in bed. I wished him luck and went back to my apartment. John wasn’t at work the next day. In fact, I haven’t laid eyes on him since. You see, this was where our game was beginning to go too far, and we knew it, but no one could gather the strength to give up.

Wilson lived for the moment he could get his grubby hands on the tagger. He wasn’t concerned with the rules of the game, because in his mind he was going to win. I swear, his devilish eyes would light up when he saw one of the guys, even if the tagger wasn’t there. He didn’t sleep (James figured that out in a frightening way). He had one thing left to do, the only way for him to win this lousy game.

Only dread fills my mind when I think about the last day. The last day of tag. It started as any morning would with my steaming cup of coffee. Nervousness flew through my veins as I glanced out the window. Wilson wasn’t there. He had been tagged by Steven a day before, and since then we all lived in unease. Who knew what Wilson would do if he got a hold of you, he had never been “it. The guys did know one thing: Someone had to go. Now is a good time that I tell you about my job. I worked at an office on the top floor of a huge building. I had found the door that led to the roof and would usually eat my lunch on the sunny roof (how ignorant). It had been a great escape from the busy office life, until the day at hand. I suppose Wilson had found that hidden door as well.

As I was snacking on my meal, enjoying the view of London on my improvised lawn chair, I felt a shiver run up my spine. I swiveled to see who or what it was only to see Wilson rear is ugly face. He was here to take care of me and win this God-forsaken game. As he trotted closer and closer, I saw the smirk on his face, like a man going insane (he most defiantly was).  I peered over the edge of the building. It was a long drop. An awfully long drop, and I was stumbling towards it. Wilson strolled slowly over to me with the face of a maniac, raising his finger.

“You look so funny when you’re scared,” he scoffed, “like a frightened puppy. A miserable thing it is. When this stupid game started, I knew it would come down to this,” Wilson rubbed his nose on his sleeve and glared back at me. “In a dream you can’t decide the outcome. In a story the ending is yours. So, which will it be? “I looked back at him, dazed. What did Wilson mean? Why would…

“Use your brain Gabe! You know why we're here. Why would any of this be real?” Wilson stepped forward, “Do you really believe we are playing a lousy game of tag?” He laughed.

Wilson spit on the floor and advanced again. The edge of the building loomed behind me as I realized we were running out of room. Wilson cracked his knuckles and sniffled.

            “What I’m about to do, I’m gonna enjoy.” He lowered his shoulder and sprinted towards me. I was a deer in the head lights. Wilson made impact and I flew backwards leaving the building behind. I saw his hideous face looking over the edge. London ‘s busy streets were all that awaited me.

            The wind blasted mid-air as all I could see was the blurred image of motion. My stomach felt like it was going to burst out of my mouth. It was that feeling of gravity at work. I was falling towards my doom. It was the end… But what if it wasn’t?

            Oh, dreams of falling always feel so real. I smiled as the street got closer and closer.