I’m working on learning suspense

Holy shit. I’d always wondered what I’d think in the presence of immediate plunging death but nobody ever prepares you for the sinking pithole that forms in your stomach and drills its way out through your navel onto the floor beneath you. Nobody talks about that. Nobody–not in the first-aid lessons, or the instructional DVD’s that always seem too rehearsed and colorful, or even the Chief when she tells you there’s a kid standing on the ledge of a building, finding the courage to transform himself into a red stain on the cobblestone fifty feet below.

It’s not a thought, it’s a feeling. It’s an ancient knowledge buried in the carbon of your bones, one that screams “don’t look!” Because you know if you do–if you do see the boy begin to fall–you’ll lose everything. And even if you turn your head you’ll still hear the scream, and the rushing arrival of The End, coming to collect on all its promises.

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