Jim fell and fell, and tumbled over, head over heels. Below him clouds and above him blue sky, and these images followed one another in rapid succession as he fell. Wind rushed in his ears. He punched his leg to make sure he was awake and this movement sent him tumbling again. He was on his back, looking at the sky above him, and the clouds took him by surprise when he entered them, the sudden cold and greyness, the wetness covering his face and dampening his jeans right through, turning them dark blue. His jacket clung to him. He finally breathed, sucking in the damp air through his mouth. And then he was out the other side and the ground green and brown and yellow was grabbing out for him. He pulled at his backpack and suddenly it wrenched him up, as the silk unfolded and slowed him. It was his first ever solo jump and he laughed and laughed.
Sometimes there’s no need for a brutal ending.