(Song by Creed, I don't own the song or the Thunderbirds!)
Alan Tracy clung to a cliff face, about six feet from the top. The narrow ledge he held onto seemed to be pretty sturdy, but he could hear a storm in the distance, and the wind was really starting to pick up. Gritting his teeth, he started to wonder whether Gordon was ever going to come back with Dad of Scott, and then he remembered this had all been his fault. In an attempt to distract himself, Alan started thinking of sixes. Six sixes are thirty six, six isn't a square number of a prime number, there are over six billion people on Earth… Graves are six feet down. The thought sent shivers down his spine as he continued to cling to the ledge, looking up at the rapidly darkening sky and wishing for a rescue soon.
Stepping onto the edge of the cliff, Alan peered over the edge at the lamb that bleated at the bottom, its tiny frame shivering pathetically. "You've gotta be kiddin' me. We got a rescue call for a sheep?" Gordon had just laughed, handing Alan the clip for his harness while checking the elastic that would winch his brother up and down safely. "You ready to go, Sprout?" The blond had shot his immediately older brother a quick, confident grin, "Always, FishFace."
So Gordon had lowered him down, Alan had placed his harness on the lamb and the animal had been safely pulled up. Alan was next. Clipping himself back in, he started to climb the cliff face, failing to notice the elastic slowly wearing away where it was rubbing against the rock. Then came the snap, and the terrible lurching feeling in his stomach. Grabbing on to the first thing his scrabbling fingers could find, Alan squeezed his eyes shut as thunder crashed in the distance. "Gordon! Gordon, please!" He hated how high his voice was right then – hated it with a passion, because he sounded so young, so scared… No. He was scared, there was no doubts. "Gordon! Go get Scott! And hurry!"
Now he was alone, Alan could feel his breath coming in small bubbles. "Maybe six feet isn't so far down," He mused quietly, trying to calm the adrenaline that made him shake, "Maybe... If I fall… I'll be okay. It can't be too far down." But in his heart, he remembered the sharp drop off the edge of the cliff. He couldn't just fall and walk away from this one. This wasn't the elementary school monkey bars, "Dammit, Tracy. Get a Goddamned grip!"
And now came the comforting sound of running footsteps, accompanied with his brothers shouting his name. He called back, making the mistake of looking down as he did so. Instantly, his breath froze in his throat. Yeah… there was a lot more than six feet to that drop. Suddenly, Alan was surrounded with the smell of flowers and he felt a cool breath around his face, whispering calm words in his ears; "It's okay, baby… Just let go. Mommy'll catch you. Mommy's here. I love you, Allie."
But there was Scott, right at the top of the cliff, begging him to hang on for another couple of minutes while they tied the rope. Who did he choose? His mom, who he'd have given anything to bring back from the dead? The mom he'd never hoped to remember? Or his oldest brother? His worried, bossy, amazing older brother? Making a decision, Alan called a quick apology and let go of the cliff edge, shutting his eyes in fear before the rope around his middle pulled him sharply back up again, back up to safety, away from his mother's memory. Away from the edge of the cliff. Six feet up.
Holding onto all I think is safe…
Maybe six feet ain't so far down.