Mason Adams: A Short Story

When I first saw Mason Adams standing near the cliff Saturday afternoon, my first instinct was to stop him.

I couldn 't let the him just jump off obviously.

Because one, it would look bad on my part. And two, the cops are already on my case for my latest scandal, vandalism.

No need for the cops to have another reason to throw my ass in jail for thinking I pushed Mason to his death.

I was out for a jog because my step father was giving me hell for my new scandal.

But as usual I ignored him with my earbuds on and walked out the door.

I took my usual trail in the park, running, letting my lungs begging to be filled with air.

There 's something about running that calms my nerves when I 'm angry.

The trail I usually took went up a steep slope and went all the way to the highest point of the trail.

There are wooden railings around the trail to prevent people from jumping off the cliff and to their death.

Which the town should probably rebuild because there 's a little bit of foot space if you can jump over the railing without facing death.

With only a few feet away from me.

He was right there.

Outside the wooden railing with clenched fists, looking down at the rugged waterway, promising an instant death.

My voice was jammed in my throat. I was completely petrified. I couldn 't move and say anything.

At that moment, I knew if I didn 't say anything in the next few seconds, I would blamed for not stopping his death.

Witnessing a death can fuck a person up.

I suddenly heard Mason take a deep breath.

That 's when my voice finally decided to worked.

"Wait." I said, my voice was shakened up.

He slowly turned around.

I take a good look at