On Heights
On Heights
By Jackson Downey
Sitting on the ledge of the roof of their apartment, a couple admired the cityscape and high rises in the distance. The man, looking down, had a sudden urge to jump, and not only that but to push his love down to the pavement twelve stories bellow. Quickly, he shook off this odd crazing for a final skydive, but he wondered if she thought the same thing. Why had he thought of it in the first place? Not being a man to fear heights but certainly to fear the fall of himself or his beloved, it came as a sort of shock. Gravity, it seemed, was working harder than ever, as if it had someone to impress. It pulled on him like it never had before, calling him to come back down to its level. Again he looked down, he saw the bug-like cars scurrying around the city and the specs of people making their ways home, all moving toward different places, missing the beauty of it all. Only available to the couple, the birds-eye view revealed this beauty.
The view was terrific. But to one who is unaccustomed to being among the clouds, it can be terrifying. Sites from such a great distance above the earth bring forth a feeling of fear and awe. As one of the majority of people who dislike heights, this emotion is common when I find myself any more than three feet off the floor. Falling is what really horrifies me. There are many lookout points on the thousands of mountains along the Appalachian Trail, but there is one that truly captures the feeling of the terrific and terrifying view. I stood, approximately one hundred feet from the ground, on a piece of mountain that seemed to jut out from the summit of a mountain. Only teen feet of rock kept me from falling to my death. Overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains, the view was the most stunning I had ever seen. I peered miles into the distance at the roaring hills of the trail from my panoramic picture. Standing in awe of the beauty of the landscape around me, I couldn’t help but fear for my life as if the
By Jackson Downey
Sitting on the ledge of the roof of their apartment, a couple admired the cityscape and high rises in the distance. The man, looking down, had a sudden urge to jump, and not only that but to push his love down to the pavement twelve stories bellow. Quickly, he shook off this odd crazing for a final skydive, but he wondered if she thought the same thing. Why had he thought of it in the first place? Not being a man to fear heights but certainly to fear the fall of himself or his beloved, it came as a sort of shock. Gravity, it seemed, was working harder than ever, as if it had someone to impress. It pulled on him like it never had before, calling him to come back down to its level. Again he looked down, he saw the bug-like cars scurrying around the city and the specs of people making their ways home, all moving toward different places, missing the beauty of it all. Only available to the couple, the birds-eye view revealed this beauty.
The view was terrific. But to one who is unaccustomed to being among the clouds, it can be terrifying. Sites from such a great distance above the earth bring forth a feeling of fear and awe. As one of the majority of people who dislike heights, this emotion is common when I find myself any more than three feet off the floor. Falling is what really horrifies me. There are many lookout points on the thousands of mountains along the Appalachian Trail, but there is one that truly captures the feeling of the terrific and terrifying view. I stood, approximately one hundred feet from the ground, on a piece of mountain that seemed to jut out from the summit of a mountain. Only teen feet of rock kept me from falling to my death. Overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains, the view was the most stunning I had ever seen. I peered miles into the distance at the roaring hills of the trail from my panoramic picture. Standing in awe of the beauty of the landscape around me, I couldn’t help but fear for my life as if the