This Moment is Mine

 This Moment is Mine

I’m at that moment in my life…

I’m running headlong through some trees; running so fast it takes everything in me not to fall on my face.

If I fall, I die. My dreams are lost.

There’s no hope of slowing down. I feel too slow already, as the wind picks up and pushes against me, trying to drive me back; as the dancing leaves from overhanging branches whip me in the face and blur my vision; as the snarled roots underfoot try to entangle me and trip me up.

The more I try to pick up my pace, the harder the elements seem to fight against me. They are numerous; I am one.

I can no longer see through the thick foliage in front of me, and I can’t chance glancing back in case I lose my balance.

I must go on. There is no other option now, this deep into the forest.

All I have to guide me is a worn path. One that’s ever-changing, winding in every direction; one that leads to many dead-ends.

I can barely make it out through the undergrowth, and sometimes it seems to disappear altogether, but I know it’s there. I’ve seen it, if only for seconds at a time.

This path has been taken by many before me. Some have followed it to their salvation, many more to their despair.

Where it will lead me, I don’t know. I can only hope.

All I do know is that the trees don’t last forever. They
can’t. I may wish them to – there is relative safety here in the forest, sheltered at least partly by the elements that rage even more forcefully beyond – but sooner or later the trees must give way. I must emerge. But emerge to what?

At the far end of the forest is a cliff. It awaits us all.

With every step I feel it drawing closer. It is waiting for me somewhere beyond the next tree, or the next.

As terrifying as the prospect is, I have to admit that it excites me; because at this moment I believe I can fly. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I believe.

That is the reason I began to run. Flying is impossible without enough momentum. So at any second I’m going to burst through these tedious trees and into something even scarier than the wilderness:

The Unknown.

Clear nothingness, up or down.

I’m heading straight for it, my course decided, predetermined even, and I’m either going to fall or fly. I don’t know which – I think, I hope, but I don’t know…

And to be honest, right now I don’t even care.

What could or what will happen when I no longer have the shelter of the forest to rely on doesn’t matter to me, because for the moment I’m still running.

I’m running like my life depends on it – because, actually, it does. I can’t, won’t, don’t want to stop. Running for my life; running is my life.

So here I am, moving forward. The anticipation of possibly flying is there in my mind, giving me the determination to keep going, to move faster despite the forces that fight against me.

And I am aware that every moment before I leap into nothingness is a joyous moment, a moment of triumph, of celebration. Of Life.

Luke Spiby

MancMuse co-founder, content writer and editor-in-chief, specialising in arts and events reviews. Luke works as a TA in a college, and writes screenplays, stage plays and novels in his spare time. Luke also has experience in copywriting and marketing, and has previously directed and produced short films and theatre pieces, some of which have been in association with the Royal Exchange Theatre.

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