text: The city street looked like nothing more than narrow alley from the balcony of Cynthia’s seventh story apartment. Her legs, dangling off the precipice, quivered in fright and anticipation. The adrenaline was building in her chest, and she could feel her heart thumping ever more violently. She felt the tears well up in her eyes as she thought about all she was leaving behind. But she wasn’t crying because of nostalgia, no. Cynthia was crying because she had seen the evil of the world. She knew what hid in the darkest corners of the loneliest roads. She had seen the purest of evil in what seemed to be the holiest of men. Whether it was her stepfather who abused her and her mother when she was only twelve, but would attend church every Sunday and pretend he was right in his soul. Or maybe her real father, who walked out on her at the age of two after he cheated on her mother with her preschool teacher. And her seemingly best friend Marie, who ended up leaving Cynthia chasing her coat tails trying to maintain their friendship even after Marie had lost herself to a heroin addiction. Or perhaps it was Joseph. Her shoulder to cry on. Her friend that picked her up at two o’clock in the morning after she blacked out drunk, who then proceeded to take advantage of her in her state when he got her back to her apartment. But maybe the one that stung most of all, was the evil Cynthia saw in herself. In the wake of all her trauma, Cynthia had grown cold. Remorse was an old friend she kicked to the curb like the weekend’s garbage. Cynthia had closed herself off. Nothing mattered to her anymore. Not her family, nor her so called “friends” that remained by her side, but didn’t care enough to try and help her battle her depression. Cynthia realized that life wasn’t worth it. She had nothing left to look forward to. All she had was darkness to look back on. So, Cynthia stood up on the balcony railing, looking at the street below. It was three o’clock in the morning. The sidewalks were barren. The streets were void of any passing cars. The street lamps cast flickering shadows across the sidewalk below as the limbs of a willow tree swayed gently in the breeze. Tears from Cynthia’s face glinted in the moonlight. Her bloodshot eyes and burning, red face visible even in the dimness. Cynthia held one foot out, balancing still on the railing with the other. A spike of excitement burst into her chest, taking her breath and causing her to momentarily lose her balance. This was it for her. The world had won. She had played its twisted game and lost. And this was her finale. Cynthia leaned forward, closed her eyes, and fell. She felt nothing. It was as if she were sitting still. There was no sense of falling. There was no feeling of her body plastering itself to the walkway below. There was only a feeling of weightlessness and a slight breeze across her face. She then felt herself being lifted upward. She felt her feet plant firmly back on the balcony. She opened her eyes and froze. In front of her stood a figure so bright she could not look at it directly. It’s presence was frightening, yet soothing. The figure was the epitome of everything pure in the world. The figure spoke only a few words to her. “Your time is not yet, child. Go and do my work.” The figure then laid its hand on Cynthia’s shoulder, a feeling of relief and calm washing over her immediately, and disappeared. Cynthia broke down crying on her balcony. The words of the figure still ringing in her ears. Afterword: This is my first post on this subreddit, and I'd appreciate feedback. Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments.