Rated: E · Short Story · Contest Entry · #1633800
The story of one last time.
Here we go again, down and up and down and up. Blissful life; I indulged in each second of it.
The merry-go-around or the swing never provided such exhilaration. What a weak excuse to wait the appropriated season! In summer, I flung carelessly my flipflops. The sand passed between my toes, warm, inviting as I ran to the ladder. In fall, the pleasure was doubled by the think blanket of leaves were I would engulf in between turn. Winter will not stop me. What is snow and ice, but a prolongation to the metal slope? The water ponds and the mud of spring added to the dismay of my mother, but oh the excitement of it! What’s some laundry concern compare to that?
Growing up, even, just made me more daredevil. Why not try it headfirst, climb it, standing up with my arms in the air.
-Will you never tired up of that mindless game! Said my mom.
But no, I didn’t. From dawn to dusk I would have done it. School came and my best discovery was that they had one, one bigger than in the park, right in the schoolyard. It was oddly place near a tree trunk and I would regularly scrap my skin on it. Would it stop me? Not a bit.
I continued to try new ways to make that slide, or any other on my way, more effective in spite my new ever changing body mass.
The day I put soap on it ended all. The mattress placed on that massive tree trunk changed nothing. I never understood, now that I think of it, why they haven’t just moved the slide away from the tree before my accident, only after. Since then, I slide only in my dream. That’s all I have left.