We’re playing frisbee on the side of a snow-covered mountain. I look down, and realize I’m on a knife edge ridge. Frisbee doesn’t seem like such a good idea now.

The others are gone and I experience the sensation of falling; my feet give out as the snow falls away below, the feeling of an avalanche starting. I shove my arms in the snow and bolt myself to the mountain, hanging on. It stops, I hold.



About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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One Response to Arrêt

  1. prayingforoneday says:

    Please accept this award
    Tagged In – Blog Nomination

    Thank you


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