Taking a Leap

By Bella Jones

My heart pounds violently. I suddenly become in tune with my body. The intense pulse of my blood pounds louder and louder the closer I get to the edge. I see the water below, but the longer I peer, the farther away it seems to get. I became a tree root in the ground, unable to move. Frozen in place, oxygen comes in, but it's not enough. I let it out, but seconds later, it comes back in, unable to slow it down. During a one-week overnight camp in Oregon, every day seemed filled with adrenaline-rushing activity. Every day brought fun and lasting memories, from white water rafting to zip-lining. Excitement coursed through me as I learned what our activity for day 5 was going to be. Cliff jumping. Cliff jumping had been on every bucket list that I had ever made. Even though I had never done it before, I‘d say, “I love cliff jumping,” with eagerness and confidence. Little did I know that in the next 3 hours, my lively spirit would be swept out from underneath my feet. Taunting me as I fell into the darkness of terror and panic.

The sunlight gleamed through the trees as our feet carried us through the greenery. As we walk down the trail, words flow easily with unbreakable smiles on everyone's faces. Excitement danced through the air as we neared our destination. That's when I encountered the beauty of the land in front of me. There is a waterfall striking water, sending tiny ripples vibrating throughout, with various-sized boulders surrounding it and a lake of pale blue water in the center. Even with all the dull-colored rockets, lavish greenery gave the area a fantastic life, like energy.

I suddenly became a part of it as though another component of the site made it sing. But all of a sudden, my head turned towards a piercing scream, my eyes catching a person taking the leap off the edge. Seconds later, a splash came from down below. Suddenly, my body did not feel like my own; caged butterflies fluttered within my stomach, knowing that it would be me within minutes.

As I walk over, my feet suddenly become heavyweights the closer I get, the slower I become. My legs trembled wildly as I edged closer to the brink. Higher than 80 feet at the edge, adrenaline coursed through my veins. My toes wrapped around the edge in a final desperate bid to survive. The coolness of the rock beneath them sent a chill throughout my body. I almost passed out as my entire life flashed before my eyes as I stared down the tremendous drop. Every nerve ending in my body tingles, furiously sending my brain the message that jumping is not a good idea. I give myself a mental countdown one, two, three. But I’m still there on the edge. I have not moved an inch. Cheering words of encouragement surround me, but fear takes hold of me, yanking me away from those motivating words, making me unable to use them as pillars of support. I breathe in and out, knowing this time I will finally leap to my fate. One, two, three. I jump. My whole self became numb as I let myself free fall, plunging into the abyss, giving up control. But suddenly, time begins to slow. For a split second, I am like a feather gliding down on a smooth path unaffected by my surroundings. I hold my breath, plunging beneath the surface of the water. Quickly I swim to the top, gasping for air as I break the surface. Electricity runs through me, and a grin turns into a big smile that never leaves my glowing face. The only thing right I know at this moment is that I want to do it again.

I must have hallucinated, but in reality, I just jumped off an over 80-foot cliff. As I swam to the edge, the chill of the water started to settle into my bonds. Despite all my fears and self-doubt, I still wanted to do it again. And I did. I jumped off that cliff, 4 more times, the voices of my fears becoming quieter the more I went. As we began to pack up, I begged my concealer to let me jump one more time, even though part of the group was already heading back. She did, and as I took my final jump, I ran off the cliff free as an eagle flying high above, never needing to come back down.