1 min read

Devil’s Dive

There was only one way Morgan could get off the cliff, but would he do it?
Starry Night at Antelope Island (page AZ)
Photo by Andre Gaulin on Unsplash

Morgan peered over the cliff and saw the shining stars reflected in the water far below. A gust of wind swept up and tried to shake him from his perch, but he kept his feet planted firmly on the rocky outcrop.

“Come on, you pussy,” his drunk friend Will shouted from the crowd by the fire. He was faceless in the shadows, his body a hulking silhouette.

As usual, Kaitlyn was beside Morgan, shivering, her arms tucked tight around her body. “No one ever died—well, at least not that I know of.” Although her knowledge of the mortality rate of Devil’s Dive was vague, this wasn’t what worried him.

He looked back to the warmth of the flames. Everyone had earned their spot by taking the leap—or so they had claimed. He wanted to rejoin them by the fire and be done with this stupid challenge, but he knew the risk.

He hastily pulled off his shirt and jeans. The group was too far away to see how different his body was, but Kaitlyn gasped at the sight.

Before she could grasp what she saw, he closed his eyes and raced to the edge. As his feet left the ground, he hoped for the best.

For a moment, he tumbled through space and waited for the deep plunge into the icy waters. But it never came, and he knew everything he’d been told was true.

He opened his eyes, and the campfire and the lake were far below. Kaitlyn and Will were no longer visible. Everyone at the fire would undoubtedly have a story to tell the next day.

As he slipped through the atmosphere, he said goodbye to the Earth—he’d never set foot on it again—and turned towards the stars and his home nestled among them.

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