On The Edge

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About this artwork

Standing on the ledge of the clock tower, he looked down. He knew he was not supposed to; he had an acute fear of falling. But for some reason he would always gravitate towards it. 'Gravitate, how ironic!' He liked the sinister hum in the air; the breeze seemed inviting but he knew only too well that they won’t carry him too far; just far enough to not return, far enough to fall. He felt a sudden emptiness in his stomach. He was glad he had skipped his lunch. The afternoon sun did enough to break a sweat on his brow. 'Was it just the sun?' His lanky legs were shaky. He didn’t like that one bit. It made him look weak. Not that he was particularly strong. But then shaky legs were not good for balance and he was not too thrilled about the idea of falling. 'What good are you dead?' He looked at his wrist watch and then stared the sun. It stared back at him. His vision succumbed and for that one moment so did his balance. He fell backwards. Still alive… He smiled and got back to his feet. Dusted his pants and looked at the wrist watch again. 'I guess it’s time to go…'

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