The Skateboarder

          Breathing.

          The sound of wheels on cement. Sneaker slaps down, pushes off. Skateboarder moves. There is a purpose in his brown eyes, a reason.
          She sees him, watches him.
          They see him, watch him.
          Everyone sees him, watches him.

          Jump.

          He leaps onto a ledge, board and all. Silence reigns as his wheels fly through air, then make a harsh grating noise as they reconnect with ground, are again needed.

          Falling.

          An unforeseen obstacle opposes a wheel, and wins. The front wheels cease to function. Back end of the board bucks out. Skateboarder is launched up in the air, a small fall becoming one much larger as his momentum carries him out, out over the ledge, out into open space. Seconds pass like millennia, ages fly by, it seems, stretching the seemingly ordinary afternoon into something much more desperate- a matter of sink or swim, of maybe even life or death. His arms and legs flail about wildly, but in reality only budge slowly, slowly, oh-so slowly.

          Pain.

          His forearms connect to the concrete with a jolt of agony, the rest of him soon following. Rocks like knives delve into his flesh, bumping, bruising, breaking. Warmth trickling down his knee.
          Time speeds back normally again, and the skateboarder winces as he peels himself off of the concrete, battered, bloodied, broken.

          Shame.

          She glances at him, turns away, forgetting him.
          They glance at him, turning away, forgetting him.

          Everyone turns away, leaving him alone, alone to scrape himself up and try again, and again, and again, until he succeeds…

          …Or doesn’t get up at all…

Story by Bryanna Reed