A Breathtaking Experience

It was evening, and I was standing on one of Cliffside Beach’s craggy cliff. The sky was bathed in tangerine and rose gold as the Sun dipped into the sea. Cliff diving was as popular a sport in our town as it was dangerous, but at this moment, I could not care less about it as I prepared to jump. 

Cliff diving was something Dad did, he was known throughout the town for his feats when he was a teenager. It was also what killed him, which made Mom forbid me from going within five meters of the cliff. However, cliff diving was in my blood and the diving classes on the weekend only made it worse. I would sneak out every Friday night to watch my friends' cliff dive. Today, I could do the same without Mom finding out, so I jumped. 

In that fleeting second, after I jumped, I wondered whether I would be able to do something that Dad, the most talented person I knew, could not do. I wondered whether my body would ram against the sharp, underwater rocks like his had, never to breathe again, but it was too late now, I had already jumped. 

Time ceased to exist as I plummeted down, the sky could not hold me, and the waves could not stop me, I was invincible. I understood why Dad had jumped all those years ago despite being out of practice. The feeling of being one with the Sky and the Wave was addictive, almost as if both of them belonged to me. This was Dad’s legacy, and now it would be mine. 

I crashed into the Sea, narrowly escaping a rock as I slowed to a stop a few metres underwater. Turning around, I headed towards the Sky, breaking the surface of the water and inhaling a mouthful of salty air. I now knew the meaning of breathtaking, the one word Dad always used to describe his stunts. The air might have been tinged with seaweed, but it was the sweetest thing I had ever tasted.