The frothy waves crashed in rhythm against the crumbling cliff
with a kind of impatient urgency as my mother and I were ambling across the cliff above it, with the natural world of animals and insects teeming with life and energy, completely surrounding us. If you listened really closely, you could hear the electric buzzing of a telephone wire, vibrating eccentrically with life. My mother cherished her evening saunters across the stunning cliffside, especially when it was a clear, exact crescent moon night, like tonight. It was
unlike anything even I had seen, with each shining and twinkling star clashing effectively with the deep, navy sky. The evening was also hosting a momentous Aurora Borealis sky, with every imaginable colour cascading fruitfully across the heavens like an expert dancer prancing gracefully around with skilled
proficiency.
As my mother and I walked along the withered track with our
heads permanently fixed to side to gaze gobsmacked at the beautiful azure, we came to an abrupt stop. There seemed to be some kind of flaming ball of light rocketing towards us with extreme force and power, blasting the night sky electric blue. It was screaming every possible colour; moody jade, stinging emerald, fiery orange and cheery yellow. I violently shook my mother with an ear-splitting shriek, and dived in the opposite direction of the soaring sphere. I clutched my ears and crouched, trembling, into a tight ball and waited for the impact to blast me to a million bite size pieces. But it didn’t.
Blood is darker than you might think. It looks more black than
red when you stare at it absent-mindedly. An agonised cry woke me up from my senses. My mother was moaning weakly, rocking back and forth with her hands clutching her head, which had blood streaming from it alarmingly. It looked like numerous tributaries running downwards from the source and into the lake, which
was the glistening scarlet puddle dripping tantalizingly off the cliff edge.
I grabbed her, sobbing, but I automatically let go when I heard
her let out a heart-rending screech. I was momentarily stunned, but a fraction of a second later I fumbled for my phone and clumsily dialled 999. Before the first ring they answered, a woman speaking in a dull monotone. “Emergency services. State your emergency”. I blubbed uncontrollably, stuttering nonsensical phrases in my desperation to make the women understand. She repeatedly told me to calm down and, eventually, I became too exhausted to
continue. She asked me to calmly tell her where I was, what was the nature of my emergency, who was injured and how serious the condition was. I spluttered out fairly unintelligible answers, but I think she grasped the concept quickly and said she was sending a helicopter to rescue. I thanked her, hung up, and grovelled protectively over her until they came.
with a kind of impatient urgency as my mother and I were ambling across the cliff above it, with the natural world of animals and insects teeming with life and energy, completely surrounding us. If you listened really closely, you could hear the electric buzzing of a telephone wire, vibrating eccentrically with life. My mother cherished her evening saunters across the stunning cliffside, especially when it was a clear, exact crescent moon night, like tonight. It was
unlike anything even I had seen, with each shining and twinkling star clashing effectively with the deep, navy sky. The evening was also hosting a momentous Aurora Borealis sky, with every imaginable colour cascading fruitfully across the heavens like an expert dancer prancing gracefully around with skilled
proficiency.
As my mother and I walked along the withered track with our
heads permanently fixed to side to gaze gobsmacked at the beautiful azure, we came to an abrupt stop. There seemed to be some kind of flaming ball of light rocketing towards us with extreme force and power, blasting the night sky electric blue. It was screaming every possible colour; moody jade, stinging emerald, fiery orange and cheery yellow. I violently shook my mother with an ear-splitting shriek, and dived in the opposite direction of the soaring sphere. I clutched my ears and crouched, trembling, into a tight ball and waited for the impact to blast me to a million bite size pieces. But it didn’t.
Blood is darker than you might think. It looks more black than
red when you stare at it absent-mindedly. An agonised cry woke me up from my senses. My mother was moaning weakly, rocking back and forth with her hands clutching her head, which had blood streaming from it alarmingly. It looked like numerous tributaries running downwards from the source and into the lake, which
was the glistening scarlet puddle dripping tantalizingly off the cliff edge.
I grabbed her, sobbing, but I automatically let go when I heard
her let out a heart-rending screech. I was momentarily stunned, but a fraction of a second later I fumbled for my phone and clumsily dialled 999. Before the first ring they answered, a woman speaking in a dull monotone. “Emergency services. State your emergency”. I blubbed uncontrollably, stuttering nonsensical phrases in my desperation to make the women understand. She repeatedly told me to calm down and, eventually, I became too exhausted to
continue. She asked me to calmly tell her where I was, what was the nature of my emergency, who was injured and how serious the condition was. I spluttered out fairly unintelligible answers, but I think she grasped the concept quickly and said she was sending a helicopter to rescue. I thanked her, hung up, and grovelled protectively over her until they came.