Harry paused at the 33rd floor to take a quick peek below. This violated his rules for climbing but since it was his first time in London he really wanted a bird’s-eye view of the magnificent city. He spied the rotating London Eye and the Clock Tower some referred to as Big Ben. Of course, his view of the tallest building in London was somewhat unique.
The media had dubbed him “Spiderman” for his daring climbs up the faces of famous buildings. He’d scaled the Sears Tower in Chicago, the Empire State building in New York and here he was now working his way up The Shard.
Reaching with the large suction cups in his hands, he resumed his climb. He never discovered what caused the failure, but suddenly the cup detached from the surface and Harry was sliding towards the pavement far below. He tried desperately to find a grip, anything to impede his fall, but his momentum made securing himself impossible. Only the slope of the building kept him from free fall. Harry tried not to scream as gravity returned him to the streets.
His survival was called a miracle by the doctors that treated him. All Harry knew was that the wheelchair in which he was now permanently bound was his chariot and new adventures awaited. He began downhill racing in it and the media bestowed upon him a new nickname: The Flash.
[This is my entry into the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge, hosted by Alastair Forbes. Write a short story of 200 words or less from the photo prompt provided. My apologies for going over this week.
My inspiration for this story is a man named Dan Goodwin. I think the guy is a bit nuts, but I respect his courage.]