The bone’s jagged edges jutted upward, tearing
through Thomas’ leg, as scarlet red seeped into the snow spreading to encircle
him in a ball gown of blood.
Melissa would still be asleep, the sweet scent of
their lovemaking just hours before lingering on her warm, soft skin.
A haze of images taunted him; the chilled air
tearing at his face, his skis ripping into the fresh snow as he dominated the
mountain, turn after turn, and then that hideous roar, everything shaking, and
the ground falling away beneath him.
He wished now that he had awakened her and kissed
her good-bye.
Remains of a tall pine pinned him to the edge of
the cliff, saving him from the massive plunge just beyond, but so twisted was
he in its branches that he could he not tell where his body ended and its bulk began,
while above a helicopter hovered, lowering the crew that would release him from
its grasp.
This post in response to the prompt “Lucky” at
Five Sentence Fiction
.
