Making Your Mark
The tenth-floor window offered a view like no other. From it, Jasper could see the park, the pool, their parking lots… beautiful, meaningless tripe. The view stretched out for miles, with people scurrying like ants to their average, everyday problems. He hated them. Envied them their simplicity, their ignorance. As if their lives were so much more important… no one bothered to know him or his task. He was vital to their success, their lives, and the ingrates didn’t even bother. Only his friends knew him. They had given him his purpose.
The wind plucked at Jasper’s shirt, tried to pull him off. He screamed at it; it knew how important he was, and was trying to stop him. Toes clung to the balcony ledge as fiercely as fingers to the roof, and he watched for his target. Sunlight sought his eyes, blotting out his target until almost the last second: a blue and silver bus. He could hear its roar even up here, the king of the iron jungle. If he marked it just right, he could delay the slaughter, maybe even prevent it. He tensed… a little further… now!
The sensation was incredible. He whooped with joy as he fell, arms outspread. Ants looked up at his cry, and some answered. Jasper smiled as the bus got bigger and bigger–they finally understood! They screamed their appreciation, but the wind yanked him left and the bus lurched right.
“Failed,” his friends howled in his ears as his mouth opened in a horrified sob. Black asphalt filled his vision. “Failed, failed, failed…”
crunch