A personal prosery prompt
The narrow bridge swayed in the rain over the chasm, just as the old Mystic had described, but Hayim was determined. He visualized the elder’s wizened face. Death on either side, the Rabbi said.
The way of life between was his only hope, but that would have to be enough. This time he would bring her back. A sweeping gust of wind drew his mind back to his predicament, as Hayim’s legs threatened to betray him. No, no, not again!
One, two. One, two. Hayim slowly and firmly put his feet down, one after the other, one after the other. He had to make it.
The skies opened with the next gust, and the storm blew him, screaming, off the beam and into the abyss along with the glistening raindrops.
Drenched in sweat, Hayim opened his eyes, clenching his soaking blanket.
God damn it…
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