This week’s flash fiction prompt from our Sparkly Badgers writer group was Falling. As I was writing it on #ShakespeareSunday (a Twitter hashtag thing) I decided to write a poem in iambic pentameter. Just FYI, iambic pentameter is REALLY hard… Anyway…


It’s stupid. I mean, I am an adult.

I work a 9 to 5 in a dull job.

I had a plan. This so isn’t the plan.

I’ve completely lost control. I’m falling.

Literally and figuratively.

Probably not metaphorically.

Can you metaphorically fall, though?

No idea. This isn’t a metaphor.

I don’t even remember how it started.

I can’t recall who started it, or why.

I can’t remember when things were normal.

They must have been at one point, mustn’t they?

I think shouldn’t have opened the note.

But if I hadn’t, if I’d just ignored…

What would my life even be if I had?

I’d still be in control, I know that much.

I wouldn’t be falling. Ears ringing loud.

Earth plummeting towards me. Wind so hard.

I cannot see, hear or think. This is it.

It’s over. I’m going to crash. I knew.

Always knew. It was inevitable.

I have always been so guarded ‘til now.

And now it’s over. My end’s nearly here.

It’s my fault. I know it is. I can’t stop.

Then I hear your voice in my ear. Cool, calm.

“Pull the shoot,” you say. “The chord on your left.”

I remember, I’m not falling alone.

I pull the chord and jolt. My decent slows.

We’re falling together. I’m not alone.

Falling’s not so bad if you’re falling too.

2 thoughts on “Falling”

  1. Claire Buss says:

    Awww – good work Badger

  2. Maria Riegger says:

    That’s great! A lovely read.

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