Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

August 18, 2019, 09:48:21 AM
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.
Did you miss your activation email?

Login with username, password and session length
This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
Pages: [1]
Author Topic: Ski Lift  (Read 81 times)
0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.
Sr. Member
Posts: 75

View Profile
« on: May 15, 2019, 02:31:21 AM »

Sitting on the hard plastic bench padded by my new thick black gortex pants, being careful not to rub the legs together to much to avoid the gag inducing sound as much as possible, feet hanging down into the 20 foot void, feeling pulled down sand awkward due to the two blood red fiberglass talons jutting out in a V in front of me. Riding up to the top of the mountain, the morning sun just cresting the peak. We’re like a conveyor belt of angels on their way to Heaven. Big furs, dark green and heavy with frosting straddle the lift, like silent sentinels assuring safe passage. At the top I clumsily shimmy off the bench, fall on my butt with a burst of laughter, feel the coolness and hear the crunch of the snow. I lift myself up, poles clanging in one hand, then position myself at the lip of the drop like a frozen roller coaster just before the plunge. I prepare my grip on the poles through thick red and black striped gloves, take in an icy drink of breath, adjust my goggles over my face, turning the world into a green tinged paradise, feel electric anticipation rip through me and push off. The wind screams into my ears, numbing them. I carve left and then right, feeling my weight shift and bounce back and forth over my rail feet, feeling a powerful surging balance between chaos and control, riding some fine line, a razor’s edge whose blade is sizzling with a fine white hot line. Fellow skiers and borders dissolve into colorful tracers, my vision tunnels, I see the bottom way down below, little pin pricks of people, pinks, and blues, reds, and blacks. I tuck in a bit more, feel my leg muscles tense like steel cables, turning myself into a blade that slices the wind into shreds, my speed increases, ski poles shooting out behind me I imagine them warping their shape like the Starship Enterprise just after the spoken “engage"
Pages: [1]
Jump to: