James Anderson reflects on his experiences and his life as he struggles to survive in a life-threatening situation, his reflection starts at the beginning of high school. Two best friends since the days of diapers and formula, James Anderson and Sha...
I saw his hazel irises; they shone brightly under the radiant, moon-lit sky. His bottom lip quivered in apprehension and uncertainty. He had brown hair waved to the one side. His eyes were glossy and there were an accumulation of swelling tears at the edge of his eyelids. The salty tears streamed down his blotchy, red, and bitter-cold cheeks. He was desperate and despondent, it was all my fault. He laid on his stomach on top of the mossy ground. He laid on top of thorny brambles, crunchy leaves, and small weeds. We were located at high altitudes in the mountains, there was an icy breeze. The icy breeze brought the frigid temperatures.
He laid at the cliff's edge. Near the dangerous cliff, there was a gray, large, and rough boulder where his backpack and his hiking equipment laid scattered across the forest floor. The forest floor was covered with acorns, pine cones, and tiny pebbles. He had his pale hand outstretched over the edge of the cliff, his nails were dug deep into the earth as a form of friction. He was grasping onto something important, someone important. It was me. If he released his grasp on my hand, my fate would be sealed as I fell thousands of feet below onto the sedimentary and granite rocks. There was intense horror dancing around his hazel irises as he clutched onto the one thing he loved most in his life. His attempt at saving my life was heroic, but the universe had other plans in store for me.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I glanced up into his eyes, the notable twinkle was gone. I felt his warm blood pulsate through his purple fingertips as he clutched onto my frosty hands and arms. My thin legs and feet dangled below me in the brisk, icy air. The moisture and the perspiration between our hands began to shatter our firm, sturdy grip. As he held onto my hand, a memory of catching a butterfly on a beautiful afternoon came into my mind, a memory whose warmth gave me hope. He desperately tried to catch the butterfly; he desperately tried save me. I knew he could not save me, I was not savable. As he sobbed ruggedly over my swinging body, I watched the tears fall from his eyes, the tears spewed across my bitter face. I hung perilously over the edge of the cliff by his one hand. In the background, my eyes could see the towering evergreen trees and the vast, indigo sky beyond his small, intricate face. The stars flickered in the night, the stars brightly gleamed in their spots as the full moon stood peacefully nearby. The night was motionless and silent. The evening sky illuminated all the darkness that crept across the Earth.
As I held onto his hand, my mind began to analyze and reexamine my extraordinary life. There is truth behind near-death experiences and the flashes of life. As I swung in the icy breeze, my life flashed before my eyes. I revisited the downfalls, the accomplishments, the failures, and the successes of my life. All of the love, the hatred, the happiness, the sadness, the suffering, the growth, the actions, and the emotions of my time engulfed my mind, my eyes, and my heart. One question resonated in my thoughts: How did I get here? Help was on its way, but I had time to reflect on my life and the choices I made. It is because of these choices that I dangle at the edge of the cliff. I did not have much time, my time was slowly running out . . .
