Crossing Borders
Above me the moon is in the shape of a toenail, it glaring down at me.
I jump to the next tree thought I had somehow misinterpreted the distance. My fingers just scrape the thick bark before I’m falling. This all feels really cliché. Cliché and flipping mind-shatteringly scary. Letting my screams pierce the night sky I close my eyes, getting ready for impact. I land hard on the ground thought somehow, I’m still breathing.
Thought if you think I’m moving, you’re insane. I stay huddled up in the little ball, too scared to inspect what I’ve actually broken. I must be paralysed.