The Falling Man (standard:horror, 2550 words)
Author: Mark Tival	Added: Nov 15 2007	Views/Reads: 3480/2240	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A man sees some one being pushed out of the window and discovers the thruth

The Falling man 

Mark pushed his way through the dense crowd pushing those who got in his
way his mind not on the path his feet were following. He was thinking 
about all the things he had to do. He was so deep in though he didn't 
realise he had begun muttering to himself. He barely noticed that he 
didn't have to push people out of the way any more, they mistaking his 
mutterings for some thing else, much more sinister. The sound of the 
crowds washed over him a thousand different voices mingled to one so 
that he could understand none of them even if he listened. Around him 
the skyscrapers burst seemingly out of the ground like tall needles 
made of glass that shone in the morning sun, every so often blinding 
him momentarily with a reflected flash of brilliant white light. One 
brighter flash momentarily pulled him out of his mind to look around 
and stop muttering to himself, some thing he had begun to do more often 
recently he worried to himself. Pulling his hand out of his coat pocket 
he looked down at his watch and swore softly to himself, shit, he was 
going to late again for the morning meeting. ‘bugger' he muttered as he 
began to have to push his way through the mass of bodies, nudging them 
at first softly out of his way, then harder if they refused to move. 
The centre of New York was hell to navigate at rush hour, some thing 
Mark had realised his first day when he had burst into the office late 
apologising for being late. That had been three years ago and he had 
just come out from the deepest fringes of Nevada, from a small town 
with only a few thousand people in it. He had stepped out on his first 
day to chaos and had almost immediately felt claustrophobic. The amount 
of people, the horns and the multitude of colours of the cars as they 
swept past him like a thick clogged artery. Mark smiled as he recalled 
the memory of how naïve he had been. Now he knew different, now he 
knew. He looked at his watch again knowing there was really no need; he 
would defiantly be late by now, ‘Yup,' he murmured to him self as he 
looked at his wrist watch, a cheep plastic one but the best he could 
afford. Its deep black numbers read 9:03 at him. They were going to be 
annoyed he knew but after all the crap they handed down to him every 
day he worked for them Mark really didn't care any more. He just wanted 
to get to the office and have his morning coffee. Then, he thought, 
just maybe I'll think about listening to their discipline hearing. He 
smiled to himself knowing the shouting he was in for. ‘To hell with 
them' he said out loud attracting a few strange looks from the other 
people and continued to push his way along the busy street as he and 
thousands of others made their way to work, none of them seeing the 
world around them, not even Mark. 

* 

The first he realised something was wrong was when the woman next to him
began to scream and point upwards to one of the skyscrapers her long 
slightly Arthritic finger straighter than it had been for years, than 
it would ever be again. Along with the rest of the crowd who had hear 
the woman's scream Mark looked up at where she was pointing and his 
heart jolted in horror. One thought rushed through his head, ‘surly 
life wasn't that bad'. Up on one of the tall skyscrapers a small figure 
stood their feet placed on the window ledge the tips of their shoes 
just off the edge. The thought crossed Marks mind before it was shouted 
out in fright by the same woman who had screamed in the first place, 
‘He's going to jump,' even though he was late along with the rest of 
the crowd Mark stood transfixed his head tilted up to look at the 
person stood half out of the window. Even from the distance he was Mark 
could see the wind whipping at his jacket pulling it around him, his 
tie blowing about flapping into his face. The figure, obviously now a 
man didn't even try to pull it back down, he just allowed it to blow 
there. Then he saw it. Another figure came up behind the man, hidden in 
the shadow of the office or house Mark didn't know which and pushed. 
The man fell, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, out of the 
window. He fell through the air falling as if in slow motion uncaring 
for the people below him whose screams would surely reach him. Mark 
stood unable to move hearing the cries and screams of the people around 
him, screaming murder. He didn't hear them, he simply watched as the 
person fell, their arms now out stretched almost like an eagles. He 
began to pick up speed the air whooshing past him at such a speed that 
his jacket was ripped from his body. Suddenly Marks legs galvanised and 
he began to run along with the rest of the crowd, who had started to 
move also towards the place where the man would hit the ground. His 
heart pounding in his throat sickened at the thought of what he might 
find there Mark ran along the block, just to his left he could see the 


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