The Fall
All about falling and stopping from doing so
My interaction with falling was anything but normal.
I fell.
I fell.
I fell.
Downward.
Downward.
Ever downward.
This.
Falling.
Started.
About.
Twenty.
Seconds.
Ago.
Which.
Doesn't.
Seem.
All.
That.
Long.
Ago.
But.
Actually.
Is.
Given.
Our.
Current.
Understanding.
Of.
Newtonian.
Physics.
Ya.
Dig?
And just before what should have been a mortal wound by way of splattering onto whatever surface served as the floor to this deep pit into which I had been hurled as punishment for sedition and blasphemy, for having violated the not-immutable laws that are held to govern our physical world, I performed the ghastly trick of freezing time and space, the very performance that landed me to undergo such a harsh sentence.
But.
Such.
A.
Trick.
Is.
Hard.
To.
Maintain.
Because.
It.
Requires.
Much.
Mental.
Horsepower.
And.
Fearlessness.
Which.
Is.
Difficult.
To.
Also.
Maintain.
Given.
That.
Total.
Annihilation.
Awaits.
Once.
My.
Plummeting.
Body.
Reaches.
The.
Bottom, which, because I am able to reperform that trick of freezing time and space, allows me to not only forestall in reaching, but serves as a cold and harsh reminder of why, leading up to this point, I had dedicated so much spare time in practicing Vajrayana mentation, knowing—presaging, really—that such intense focus would come into play at the most crucial of moments, like this one, where I intended to somehow coach the surrounding molecules to conspire into forming a contraption that could halt my terminal drop and waft me to safety, or to tear open a portal into another cross-section of the multiverse, one in which I hadn’t been thrown down this abyss, or if I indeed still had, I at least knew how to elongate the stalling effects of my blasphemous trick, rather than it having a tenuous effect, whereby it worked for an indeterminate time, only to suddenly
Stop.
Working.
Altogether.
So.
That.
I.
Again.
Began.
To.
Plummet.
And plummet.
And plummet.
Not.
Quite.
Knowing.
How.
Much.
Farther.
I.
Could.
Afford.
To.
Fall.
Before.
Meeting.
My.
Grisly.
End, probably not too much farther below, seeing that I had been falling for a total of almost a minute, yet I was not trekked up a mountainside or even shuttled up to the very top of a skyscraper, which points to the possibility that the floor upon which I will ultimately meet my demise, assuming I don't find a way out, assuming I don't build the proverbial plane on the way down, is below sea level and can therefore possibly be of much farther distance, a hope I am careful to entertain, lest such ill-founded hope allow me to slacken my ardor in finding a way to stop this fall or extricate myself therefrom,
Lest.
I.
Reach.
Total.
Obliteration.
By.
Way.
Of.
Having.
My.
Body.
Compressed.
By.
The.
Surface.
And.
The.
Gravitational.
Force.
Which.
I.
Am.
Currently.
Forestalling.
In.
Order.
To.
Bring.
To.
You.
This.
Thermodynamic.
Anomaly.
Wherein.
I.
Can.
Freeze.
Space.
Yet.
Not.
Freeze.
Time.
Thereby.
Hinting.
That.
The.
Two.
Are.
Not.
Inextricably.
Linked.
As.
Relativity.
Theory.
Will.
Have.
Both.
You.
And.
Me.
Believe.
Which.
Makes.
All.
Those.
Toilsome.
Laws.
Of.
Physics.
Get.
In.
The.
Way.
Of.
Realizing.
Our.
Deepest.
Desires.
Which.
In.
Itself.
Can.
Pose.
Problems.
Because.
Haters.
Are.
Gonna.
Hate.
And.
To.
Paraphrase.
Nietzsche.
He.
Who.
Flies.
Is.
Hated.
Most.
Of all, me here being truly hated by the clergy who went after Giordano Bruno and went after Netwon and any other forward-thinking freethinker not beholden to the herd mentality that maintains that not only are certain laws not to be disobeyed, but they should not be made mockeries of, chief among them the gravitational law that holds that levitation cannot be done without the aid of a jetpack or a Montgolfier-like contraption containing helium, but as in my case, my blasphemous case, a simple restructuring of the air pocket around one's self in order to facilitate levitation, a trick—nay, a scientifically-backed technique—that requires not a little mentation only possible through rigorous training over the course of ten years,
Time.
Of.
Which.
I [SPLAT].
Thank you for reading Third-Eye LASIK.
If you enjoy my writing, check out my new novel The Sisterhood of the Wick. It's the follow-up to 2024's Crushed Trachea Blues. It features murder, tequila, plastic-explosive lingerie, combustible lipstick, and jiu-jitsu.
Available in ebook and paperback.
So much better than Gravity. Remember that movie? It sucked. This, though. This is awesome. A legit delight.
This was brilliant. In a strange, probably tangential sort of way, this reminds me of the cyclical nature of the acceptance of suffering and our feelings, the mentation this seems to require, and how even when we have developed skill in this area, it can be quick to degrade again during each change of circumstance, but ultimately returns.