Leaps and Bounds

The boy nervously curled his toes over the end of the board and peered downward. The unforgiving water rushed around beneath his feet. The sun shone brightly sending diamonds across the surface of the water. He felt no warmth. He took one last, meaningful look at the grassy shore to his right and left and slowly backtracked on the board. He was going to jump. He looked at the sky, the birds, his mother. Would this be the last time he would ever see them again? Would this be his last time under the sun? He clenched his teeth, if he was going down he was going down swinging. He surged forward, he feet flying seemingly inches above the board. It stretched on and on into a ribbon of white road. Finally, the end. He flung himself off the board as far as he could, leaping into the sky like an antelope on the African plains. The air whistled past his ears and rippled his hair. He hit the water. He sunk down to the bottom of the water, bubbles whirled around him in a frightening whirlpool. He couldn't see, he couldn't hear, and he couldn't breath! He frantically thrashed his arm and legs. He breached the surface. His lungs expanded with air, sweet, sweet air. He had done it. He had jumped and he had lived.

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