"And yet, I find,
A certain freedom in falling . . ."
-- A. K. Riley

The sky stretched out endlessly, filling the entire horizon with an ongoing, continual blue. The clouds rose up to meet him, exploding in his vision like a climatic crescendo, becoming louder and louder, filling him with an intensity too great for words. Building up like a scream that would only be released as a sigh, the tightness in his throat became greater, choking the very breath from him and squeezing tears into the corners of his sparkling eyes, before giving way as gravity seized him.

Falling back, the heavens spiraling farther and farther away, and the ability to breathe came back to him, the breath he had been holding wheezing out as his lungs deflated. A jerk in his stomach, and he saw the world upside down, hearing the roar of the wind as he flew by.

Then, he was climbing again, stretching out his legs and pushing forward, increasing his peak height as he pumped for all he was worth.

A lift in his middle, and he was descending, plunging backwards towards the dry, dusty gravel. The greasy chains beneath his hands rubbed against the skin of his palms, scrapping and reinforcing the slight calluses, almost worn and smoothed away. It had been far too long since he had done this last.

Laughing softly to himself, he steadied his rhythm, dragging his feet against the ground, causing small billows of dust to plume up about his ankles, coating his shoes and pants with a layer of gray.

His hair fluttered in the wind, the playful current twisting the locks over and about each other, ruffling them into an almost childlike state. Sighing, he twisted his neck, gratified at the easy movements, the knots and strains of his daily stress slipping away in the warm afternoon, his worries collapsing in like ice cream in the sun.

Leaning back, hanging onto the chains and falling as far as his arms would allow, he stared up into the sky. The whirling blue infinity seemed boundless, the white clouds surging out and towards him. The few leafy treetops he could see swayed back and forth with a steady, unbroken rhythm. He sighed, following it with his eyes, a slow, content lethargy spreading through his long, lean form.

He arched his back, pushing himself into a seated position, shifting in the too-small seat. Closing his eyes and breathing out, he titled his face into the warm sunlight, it shining off his hair, highlighting the streaks of auburn and gold. A few blond curls lifted from his forehead in the breeze which the trees moved to, and he followed their beat, sending his mind out in all directions, but centering it internally and washing over it with a slate of blankness, clearing all thoughts from his consciousness.

A excited flapping of wings, and he opened his eyes, a deep shining green, analogous to the budding spring leaves of the nearby mayflower trees, fixing his gaze upon the small, darting forms of the flock. They veered as one, sparkling like the fading flashes of a dream in the predawn gray, before vanishing into the treetops.

An odd beep at his side took a moment to draw his attention; the out-of-place sound enough to make him pause. Shaking his head to clear it, realizing what the call was, the man slipped the Global from his belt, sliding it open and staring blankly at the haughty face on the view screen.

"Major." The voice was cold, demanding. "You are required on the bridge."

He nodded, and was dismissed.

Sighing, he clicked the device shut, slipping it into its usual place absently. Staring back up at the sky, he gave a small smile and pushed against the ground with a mighty shove.

It sent him flying back, and then forward, and he pointed his feet to the heavens, shooting for the sky. The descent was almost depressing, in a comforting way, and he swung back and forth a few more times before giving one last powerful pump, and soaring backwards again.

Closing his eyes, he let the forward drop fill him, embracing the wild feeling, the freedom in falling, knowing that he would be caught before hitting the ground.

As he again climbed upward, he leapt from the swing, his feet hitting the gravel lightly. Dusting himself off, he gave a small, satisfied nod. Glancing back at the old, rusted swing-set, he drew himself up and then strode down the empty park's path.

The swing still swung after his form had vanished, the old chains creaking slightly. The small, hidden outcropping in the garden would remain empty, for a small while. Until the next lost soul came for a brief interlude in childish beatitude, and for the freedom in falling.

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