The thrill of dying, that’s what we were hoping for. The boisterous roar of metal against metal, the trembling of unsteady wooden planks, the waiting for that last painless blow, that’s why we did it. And that thrill of being shoulder to shoulder with the presence of death, made us feel more alive. We did it a thousand times, and death never took us. But that chance of too late of a reaction, or a shoe wedged too tightly in between the wooden boards, or the feeling of stone hitting our bodies instead of water when we jumped- those exhilarating feelings never went away.
So there the three of us stand on that rotted wood bridge, waiting to either perish together, or make it out alive just to do it next weekend. The train always gives us hints that it is approaching, and with each sign of its near arrival the adrenaline pushes against our hearts and tightens around our throats more and more. First we test the metal railings- if it is cold against the touch of our ears, we wait in anticipation longer. If it is warm, we look out to the horizon, searching for that traveling puff of smoke. When that smoke is visible, we almost instantaneously feel that vibration, the tremors starting in the soles of our shoes and traveling through our body until the hairs on our head tingle. The sensations become more and more intense as the train approaches us- the whole bridge shudders, and the water far down below ripples and shatters its reflection of the clouds in the sky.

As the monster of steel and smoke nears, we know this is the time. One unexpected mistake, and everything will be gone forever- our bodies and minds will succumb to our dangerous games. The train comes so close that our hair is blown back and tears spring in our eyes from the force of air. Each time, we let death get closer- taunting that invisible force that controls our lives, and the space between us and the deadly locomotive shortens.

It is now time, and we jump before we can think. We act on impulse, because the feeling of dying blocks out all thoughts other than our awareness of pure life. The vibrations on the bridge are replaced with the sensations of falling. It feels like a lifetime could fit into those couple of seconds of waiting to hit the water- or ground if we miscalculated our movements. Then that ice water hits us, and in that split second all the thoughts that were pushed to the back of our minds are released in a confusing jumble, the cold making our consciousness incapable of sorting through it all. And then we hear the shouts as we come up for air, and those screeched words of happiness and accomplishment echo across the water throughout the three of us.

We will be here next weekend to feel that high again, and to tease death as he holds us in his arms. And as we wait for next weekend that anticipation will slowly creep through the neglected parts of our brains. Who knows- maybe next time will be the time we don’t make it.