”Just do it,” He told me as I stood on the top of that bridge.
”I can’t” I answered.
I knew this was what I had bragged about for so long. And now when we were here, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do something I had said I’d done so many times.
”Just jump,” He said again as I kept hesitating.
I couldn’t do it.
I didn’t want to do it.
But I knew that if I didn’t do it, then my tales would be exposed as the lies they were.
So I had to do it. I had to jump.
And I did.
I saw how the river came closer and closer and I regretted what I had done.
I knew it was going to hurt.
I knew I shouldn’t have jumped.
The landing made the bottom of my feet hurt so bad that I didn’t think there was a bone in my feet I hadn’t broken.
But there was nothing I could do.
I had to get back to the surface.
I broke through and took one long deep breath before I looked back up to the top of the bridge and saw my friends standing there looking down at me.
I didn’t understand what was so funny.
I had done it.
It wasn’t just a story I told anymore.
I had done it.
My feet hurt. But I was delighted with myself. And I couldn’t understand what they were laughing about.
Then I understood.
I understood what they had done.
I saw them standing there. My clothes in their hands Ready to leave.
And I understood that they didn’t want me to jump because they want to see it.
They wanted to humiliate me.
And they succeeded.
I had to walk home that day, naked.
And I never told another story that wasn’t true again.
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Categories: flash fiction