Saved by an Angel

All she wanted to do for all her life was climbing. She loved nothing more. The thrill she got, the peace she found and the constant risk that brought her closer to her inner self and to eternity. She was a free-climber. Most of her friends shook their heads when she told them with sparkling eyes how much she loved to be out there, hanging on to rocks with only her finger tips hanging high above ground. Often they looked at her and warned her. One day you will go too far. As she was hanging on with only two fingers, far above ground today that thought went through her mind. Maybe today was the day. Maybe today she went just that little bit too far…

Hanging onto the rock with her dear life, she prayed for the first time in her life, “Dear God, I know I don’t do this but please, if you’d allow me to survive this, I will do whatever you want. I will be a good girl and never do this again. I will be a good sister, a good co-worker, and a good friend. Just please let me live.” She whispered, Amen, and waited for the miracle.

Nothing.

She could feel her fingers slipping as she let out a whimper. “Please help!” She cried and screamed as she began to fall. This is it, she thought, closing her eyes, bracing for the pain of death.

Then out of nowhere came this firm grip. She opened her eyes and saw an olive-skin man staring at her, his body was half-way out while his hand had such a sure and iron grip around her wrist. “Are you okay?” He asked, grunting. She nodded, her mouth was dry and she was speechless. “Come on, pull!” He shouted at someone and before long, she was going up and was once again standing on firm ground.

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” She wrapped her arms gratefully around the man’s shoulders. As they let go of each other, she looked around to see the person he was shouting at when he was helping her but there was no one. It was only the two of them. She scratched her head. “Where is your-” she wanted to say companion, but instead, she asked, “Who were you yelling at?”

She looked back at him and suddenly realized she was alone. He was gone. She grew more confused. Can he be my imagination? She wondered. If he is, then I’d be, no, he has to had been real. Can he be-?

She turned and faced the horizon. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

This story was originally posted on October 26, 2015.

Written for Finish It, a writing challenge where we are provided an opening (in red) and we are to finish the story.