A short, muscular, slender skydiver stands teetering on the brink of his extinction, listening to the roar of the gale force winds sweeping around the bullet shaped plane. His angular knuckles and face become pale with fright and insecurity. GO! His muscles tighten and he's out. A sudden surge of excitement, enthusiasm, recklessness and mild anxiety bolts through his body. His back dampens with sweat, not of fright, but of the thrill. As he soars through the icy winter air. At a blinding speed of 144 mph, he flows through the soft, feathery clouds with great elegance. The sound of his fluttering suit trails behind the faint rattling and jingling sound of the silver buckles that secure him to his navy blue backpack. In his multicolored suit, with a tangy taste of freedom, he gently wisps over the shimmering ocean. His flashy technique and style outshines the rest. He reaches back and tugs on his ripcord. With a feeling of despair, he hears a rustling sound and a loud POOF! With great force and speed, his chute opens. With that one swift pull of a string, he jerks himself back into reality. He glides down with the sweet taste of success circling his mouth and the smell of victory in the air. Once on the secure ground, he comes to realize that the best hour of his life only lasted for a few minutes.
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