deform
cliffs from below. Frothy sea water which came in and out from the Atlantic
Ocean was all, an unpleasant sight of scenery.
Frightening
experience of being trapped and falling to his death overpowered his mind.
Shock was for certain but he held on to whatever he was holding firmly. Sweat
of fear rolled from his forehead, drips on his shoe and disappeared at the
fall. Further down, underneath his dangling feet, the waves conquered the
robust cliff with a roaring sound of splash and retrieving to the ocean.
The
monotone sound of the continuous motion of the waves made him realised that he
had to do something. Help wasn’t coming and indeed if it was to come he knew
that he would not last long. He noticed that the dripping sweat was no longer colourless,
but rather a mixture of thick blood red with dirt.
Overlooking
at the top to where his left hand has got hold of, he noticed that he was
suspended to the protruded roots of a nearby tree from the footpath. He
remembered how he thought the roots might not be able to cope any longer with
his weight. His reflex action had automatically take control of the situation
by allowing his survival instinct to react. On his way down his hands had
fidgeted wildly, closing and locking down at anything it could during his
fall. The continuous sliding and dragging effects made their mark.
It had slashed opened a gash which spread from his left arm from the
wrist up near the elbow.
He
knew that it took a while to feel the sharp agony when his blood was still warm.
He used his right hand as it was still hanging and awaiting to get hold to the
rest of the roots. Protrude roots which spread outwards from the disintegrated
edge of the plateau became a vital natural ladder. He used his upper body
strength to climb the upright edge.
‘Where
is he?’ he hear a young voice said.
‘Yes
where is he? Does anybody see him?’ He heard a different one asked.
‘Do
not move!’ One of the boys said.
‘Shouldn’t
we all head back and let him be? After all, the edge of the plateau is not safe
for us.’ Someone else said.
‘Yes,
perhaps we should leave in case if he is down there? ….And the Police?’
‘What
about the police? There’s no murder here. There was no motive here instead just
an accident. We need to make an anonymous call about a rescue mission though.’
He could remember the voice of the bully’s main man.
‘I
assumed that it’s 911.’ He heard the latter voice responded again.
‘Involuntary
manslaughter and voluntary manslaughter are both murders. We should hope and
pray that his holding on to something. Make an anonymous call and give the
exact location while we make a run. We better pray that he’s not dead and
perhaps holding on to something.’ Somebody exhorted to their attention in a
curious and scary manner.
He
waited for a while though he could not hear them. He wanted to fake his own
death. The old man then saw his young self slowly climbing up in pain with the
help of the protrude roots. Once he was up he threw himself onto the plateau’s
surface and then crawled on his right uninjured side, far away from its edge.
‘You
think that you’re Mr Nice Guy.’ Tony said.
‘Now,
what’s the problem Tony?’ I asked unafraid.
‘You’re
the problem. It seems that you’re deaf.’
Tony
had brought his rough terrain bicycle to a halt. Armed with shock absorbers at
the front and back, accommodates by the rough terrain wheels. He keeps one leg
on the pedal which was up and one leg on the ground as if he was waiting for me
to make a run. Behind him a group of four bullies had also anticipate my moves.
They mimic and adopt the emergency posture in case I made a run.
They
stare at me with a wild mean face as if waiting for retaliation to the action
they were about to commit against me. An excuse was what they were after just
to find a reason to start a fight. I was determine not to be push around.
‘It’s
about time we showed him
cliffs from below. Frothy sea water which came in and out from the Atlantic
Ocean was all, an unpleasant sight of scenery.
Frightening
experience of being trapped and falling to his death overpowered his mind.
Shock was for certain but he held on to whatever he was holding firmly. Sweat
of fear rolled from his forehead, drips on his shoe and disappeared at the
fall. Further down, underneath his dangling feet, the waves conquered the
robust cliff with a roaring sound of splash and retrieving to the ocean.
The
monotone sound of the continuous motion of the waves made him realised that he
had to do something. Help wasn’t coming and indeed if it was to come he knew
that he would not last long. He noticed that the dripping sweat was no longer colourless,
but rather a mixture of thick blood red with dirt.
Overlooking
at the top to where his left hand has got hold of, he noticed that he was
suspended to the protruded roots of a nearby tree from the footpath. He
remembered how he thought the roots might not be able to cope any longer with
his weight. His reflex action had automatically take control of the situation
by allowing his survival instinct to react. On his way down his hands had
fidgeted wildly, closing and locking down at anything it could during his
fall. The continuous sliding and dragging effects made their mark.
It had slashed opened a gash which spread from his left arm from the
wrist up near the elbow.
He
knew that it took a while to feel the sharp agony when his blood was still warm.
He used his right hand as it was still hanging and awaiting to get hold to the
rest of the roots. Protrude roots which spread outwards from the disintegrated
edge of the plateau became a vital natural ladder. He used his upper body
strength to climb the upright edge.
‘Where
is he?’ he hear a young voice said.
‘Yes
where is he? Does anybody see him?’ He heard a different one asked.
‘Do
not move!’ One of the boys said.
‘Shouldn’t
we all head back and let him be? After all, the edge of the plateau is not safe
for us.’ Someone else said.
‘Yes,
perhaps we should leave in case if he is down there? ….And the Police?’
‘What
about the police? There’s no murder here. There was no motive here instead just
an accident. We need to make an anonymous call about a rescue mission though.’
He could remember the voice of the bully’s main man.
‘I
assumed that it’s 911.’ He heard the latter voice responded again.
‘Involuntary
manslaughter and voluntary manslaughter are both murders. We should hope and
pray that his holding on to something. Make an anonymous call and give the
exact location while we make a run. We better pray that he’s not dead and
perhaps holding on to something.’ Somebody exhorted to their attention in a
curious and scary manner.
He
waited for a while though he could not hear them. He wanted to fake his own
death. The old man then saw his young self slowly climbing up in pain with the
help of the protrude roots. Once he was up he threw himself onto the plateau’s
surface and then crawled on his right uninjured side, far away from its edge.
‘You
think that you’re Mr Nice Guy.’ Tony said.
‘Now,
what’s the problem Tony?’ I asked unafraid.
‘You’re
the problem. It seems that you’re deaf.’
Tony
had brought his rough terrain bicycle to a halt. Armed with shock absorbers at
the front and back, accommodates by the rough terrain wheels. He keeps one leg
on the pedal which was up and one leg on the ground as if he was waiting for me
to make a run. Behind him a group of four bullies had also anticipate my moves.
They mimic and adopt the emergency posture in case I made a run.
They
stare at me with a wild mean face as if waiting for retaliation to the action
they were about to commit against me. An excuse was what they were after just
to find a reason to start a fight. I was determine not to be push around.
‘It’s
about time we showed him
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