All things fall. Some faster than others.

Above me is the blue sky, below me I can see the misty cloud glaring at me like a trampoline.12,000 feet, 45 seconds to go.

I jumped out of my plane 2 seconds ago. You see, our conversation is not in a real time.
The faster I am accelerating to the ground, the faster I am talking to you. Skydiving, my
passion, the love of my life. I still remember telling my dad once, "I want my body to
be thrown in a skydiving fashion, from 10,000 feet altitude, when I am dead." Most of you wouldn't understand my passion for skydiving, except for my lovely wife up in that plane from which I am diving, and my best pal, Steve, who is piloting the plane, Cessna C-182, over the Estacada plain of Oregon .

Steve and I have shared same interests since our childhood days. We have fought so much that now we can't be separated. Steve is only into B.A.S.E. jumping though, and I don't like driving my planes. When we ascend to skydiving, Steve prepares everything for me, including my parachutes and head gears. My innocent wife has almost no interest on this X-treme sport and is a little afraid of altitude; though she was gracious to accompany us in this pursuit, this time.

I have just passed through that thick layer of cloud, I think I did get my suit a bit wet.
This is my first time with Accelerated Freefall, I am too old for Tandem dives now. I was
supposed to have 2 instructors along with me, according to the guide lines..but who cares now at this point of life! I am close to 110 mph now the air gust could peel my cheeks easily if I wasn't wearing the protecting mask. I wonder how Wesley Snipes could talk in this heavy air tunnel, no way.

Steve has always been superior to me in everything. He was the homecoming King of our high school (we didn't have Queens there), he got selected in the Ivy league program and every girl would die to talk to him. I had contacts of so many girls, because of Steve; they all wanted to be my friend - to be his girlfriend. I never felt bad about it, I don't think so; but did wanted something to show for myself. That is why I bought an old corvette (though cheaper than his new Z3), learned Skydiving while Steve was into BASE jumping (mostly Cliffs). I even married a pretty wife, Sarah and Steve is unmarried still....despite knowing that Sarah was his old flame.

Now I can make out the assembly of small houses, which appear like a computer motherboard. Those blue river, actually appear like a line in a geological map. 6,000 feet more and I will be kissing the ground. I don't have any complain for my life, no sir. I have a good job, a house with reasonable mortgage and my grass is greener than my neighbors. Apart from feeling uneasy time after time and thinking about what my wife would be doing while I am out, I am happy. I no longer hear the laughs of my wife in the airplane up, above. Before my jump, I was so nervous and these two were laughing their hearts out.

Old flames aren't called old ashes, as they have the tendency to burn again. On numerous accounts I have caught Steve at my home, while I was calling my wife to check. But, if he were actually guilty, why would he pick up the phone? I have seen my wife staring at him at times, but that could be an innocent look, right? My son is more dear to his uncle Steve than me, although we do play often. Oh Steve, why am I so much obsessed about you and my wife, at this point when I am going to pull the cord to open my chute? You have been always nice to me and yet I can't get things off my mind.

They must be still laughing now, Sarah might be sipping that vodka, she can't stand altitude (and yet she is laughing). 1,000 feet I should pull the cord now. But what is the use??? I have seen Steve meddling with the chute-bag while I was getting my shot before the jump. That old bastard corked the knob, I am sure. I am sure I won't be able to open the chute. Let me enjoy this moment, the last moment of my life. Dad, didn't I tell you I wanted to be dead skydiving? This is the love of my life, my only true friend. You told me dad, that Steve is no good. I kept his friendship despite that. May be I because I didn't trust you, I have, after all, seen you strangling mom.

300 feet to go. I can see that plain construction site where my body is going to bang. Now, there is no point of pulling the cord. Even if Steve hadn't messed up the buttons, I blame him for my death. I know he did it. 3 seconds later my body will be smashed into pieces. 3 hours later, there will be an announcement on the radio, "A small plane, Cessna C-182, has been found missing in the Estacada plains of Oregon. The locals have reported that they have heard a loud bang, equivalent of a bomb explosion within the aircraft. The remains of the plane are yet to be discovered."


All things fall. Some faster than others.

THE END