Standing there, right on the edge, the rush is incredible, indelible.

The wind is intense, slapping against your face, hair streaming away in the onslaught.

Opening your mouth to scream, your voice is snatched away, vanishing into the dark night sky.

Cold fills your entire being- exhilarating, intense, terrifying!

Feet balance precariously on the edge, one step forward or back and it's over. The small bar isn't a sufficient platform to stand on, but it's oh-so-cold, just like the freakish wind- fierce, unrelenting, uncaring!

Your heart is going like a drum.

Your inadequate clothing snaps back and forth in the frigid conditions against your thin, wiry frame.

It can't keep you warm.

You shiver, relishing the movement.

You lift your arms up, out and wide, fingers spread to catch the wind.

A gesture of welcome, a symbol of release.

A clear laugh escapes your frozen lips, ringing in the cold air.

Eerie, haunting, a premonition of doom.

A small smile dances on your lips- perhaps it's time.

But........ Remember- Don't Look Down!

Eyes clamped shut, arms outstretched, laugh still tinkling in the wind, you lean forward- slowly, surely- to embrace the storm.

Fall.

~Quoth the Raven "Nevermore"

Edgar Allen Poe, The Raven