One Swing Too Far

The little boy swung backwards and forwards on the swing, urging it higher and higher. The trees flashed past, then the leaf strewn ground, then a patch of clear grey-blue sky. Backwards, forwards. Fast enough to make his head spin. So fast he couldn’t tell which way was up anymore.

He kicked out with his legs, using them to pull, to push, to pull himself further into the sky. If he went far enough, he could forget everything. If he swung high enough, he would be free. He could slip off the swing, up into the grey-blue sky, and fly like a bird. Up, up, all the way up. In the grey-blue sky, surrounded by nothing but empty air, he might finally find peace.

He pushed himself higher, swinging in a great arch. His wide, happy blue eyes reflected the sky. Higher and higher, back and forth. His head was up in the clouds, his soul lost in the vast emptiness of the heavens.

At the highest point of his arch, he slid off the swing. His small body flew up, just like he imagined it would. For a brief moment, the happiest of his life, he was truly free. He was suspended in the heavens, arms and legs spread-eagled; like someone had paused him mid-way through a star jump. His young face wore an expression of pure joy.

But everyone has to come down to earth sooner or later.

Gravity dug its harsh claws into his body and dragged him back down to earth. He tumbled over himself, falling through the air like a puppet with its strings severed. The look of joy turned to fear and then horror as the rock hard ground rose up to meet him.

He bounced once and then his body lay still. One of his arms was bent back at an unnatural angle. He lay on his back, his blue eyes were wide open… and his soul still floating in the vast emptiness of the heavens.

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5 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. HelenShroom
    Jan 26, 2012 @ 16:47:01

    I love the abruptness of the ending. As always, amazing post.
    (I was listening to Hyper Chondriac Music whilst reading this, it made it a lot more dramatic. Because when it started with the drums and guitars, he started flying, and when the music slowed down, he began to fall…).

    Reply

  2. Rosikifish
    Jan 26, 2012 @ 17:21:51

    “But everyone has to come down to earth sooner or later.” I think that is lovely, but so very sad. Beautiful dynamics of the writing.

    Reply

  3. Anne Schilde
    Jan 26, 2012 @ 23:50:41

    That’s the thing I like about these short fiction pieces. You can get away with four paragraphs about swinging in a swing. Well, done. I liked gravity’s claws a lot.

    Reply

  4. Dad
    Jan 27, 2012 @ 22:14:27

    Well written but sad…

    Reply

  5. Laurie
    Oct 09, 2012 @ 12:07:46

    You took me back to when I was a child. Thank you. Great writing.
    I have been thinking about swinging lately as a metaphor for being moored to the right things but being able in that mooring to experience life with swooping joy and exhileration. How well do I swing? How well do you? What are the right things to be moored to?

    Reply

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