A short story about the fear of heights. Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s IMP OF THE PERVERSE and a personal experience of being locked out on a hotel balcony.
Impelled
By N. P. Arrowsmith
I have climbed sheer rockfaces, crossed high, narrow bridges, peered out atop skyscrapers and stood on glass-bottomed floors; I do not have a fear of heights. Yet, this ninth-floor balcony on which I am trapped petrifies me so profoundly that I lie curled up on the floor, eyes wet with tears.
I arrived at Juan Cortez Hotel several hours ago, and this is my last stop on my journey across Mexico before I fly home to England. I have been staying in hostels, so I thought I would enjoy the luxury of a hotel beside the beach for my last few days. It was 10pm when I arrived. I threw my bags onto the floor of my room and stepped outside to take in the view and the warm night air. I closed the balcony door behind me to stop any creatures from getting in. When I attempted to re-open it, the latch broke, and now I am locked outside.
I have tried everything to open the mechanism, but all my attempts have failed. I have shouted to the adjacent rooms and down to the floor, but it seems the hotel is mostly empty because no one is responding. My phone is inside, and it is far too dangerous to attempt climbing around to another balcony. Sure, the hotel staff will clean my room and release me late in the morning, but I am terrified that I will not be here then.
Five years ago, a friend of mine, just twenty years old, fell from the eighth story of a building in Thailand. He had been backpacking too, and he was someone who loved life and rarely drank. People have tried to blame alcohol and depression for his suicide, but it is simply not the case. Tonight, I finally understand the terror he went through that night. His body was found at 5:30 in the morning. I pray that I find the strength to outlast him long enough for the hotel maid to become my saviour.
My knees quake every time I glance down at the hard concrete below. The balcony’s barrier is glass and only reaches up to my hip. It would be terribly easy to surmount, albeit not by accident. If only I could sleep or wait, but I am restless. I am not scared of the height; I am afraid of how easy it would be to jump, and what petrifies me is that I just might do it!
A spasm of muscle, and I will vault the barrier. The acceleration of my fall will draw the ground to me in seconds. Seconds. It sounds so quick, but it is aeons in a mind surging with adrenaline. My stomach will be tumbling, and I will be thinking.
I will think of the pain that I cannot escape no matter how hard the landing. I will think of the confusion and heartache it will cause my family. I will think about how long I will exist in conscious agony once my bones break. I will think about the fifty years taken from me. During the fall, I will think it all.
What it is that frightens me is what I believe Edgar Allan Poe called the Imp of the Perverse, the creature in your brain with a devious desire for self-destruction, who could briefly take control. I feel him playing, pulling levers and sparking wires.
He makes a connection and my leg spasms; he tries another, and I scream. When I was looking over the edge, I felt his urge to jump. It would not take much. So I lie on the floor to makes his task harder, but the sparks still fly. I cannot stay still. I cannot stop it.
It is gone 1am, so I have roughly nine hours to fight the tenacious imp. He eagerly leapt to the controls from the moment he first saw the drop. Now, he is learning the combinations and the timings of the levers. How long will it take till he discovers the right sequence and dances with delight?
I have no fear of heights, but I am becoming hysterical because of what I feel impelled to do.
*
The body of an Englishman, aged 25, was discovered at 6:15 yesterday morning. It is thought the man fell from the 9th floor of the Juan Cortez Hotel in Cancun. Mexican authorities are not treating the incident as suspicious. Tributes have been pouring in on the man’s social media pages honouring his infectious enthusiasm and love for life.
N. P.
