American Goddesses by Gary R. Henry
Genre : Paranormal superheroine romantic thriller
The crowd, perhaps 500 or more, collectively gasped as the young woman soared to the 5th floor to face the would-be suicide. She stood on air, a foot from him.
“Hi, honey, I’m Trish. What’s your name?” Trish asked.
“I know you can take me down,” said the jumper, a hefty, sandy-haired man a little older than Trish. “If you do, I’ll be right back here again. I’m going to kill myself. You can’t stop me. Understand?”
Trish smiled sweetly, her blue eyes guileless. “I understand, honey. Actually, that’s just what I wanted to hear. At least we know where we stand.”
She gave him a cool look. “Know what I mean?”
He looked at the feet of the pretty young woman. She stood on five stories of empty air. Trish snatched him off the ledge, and held him gently against her.
The man was bulky, and nearly 6 feet tall. He dwarfed the small woman, holding him in mid-air, who was barely able to get her arms around him without squishing him like a giant grape.
Her bare thighs and knees pressed against his big, denim-covered legs. Trish left his hands free, and he fought with all his strength against her. He punched, scratched and bit, and tried ramming her with elbows.
His struggles amused her. She held him effortlessly, hovering at the 5th floor, until he realized struggle was pointless.
“You can’t hurt me, honey,” she said, as if explaining to a child. Still holding him, she swiftly dropped to within a few feet of the pavement, where Megan and the police waited.
“Now,” the hovering Trish said, “in front of all these nice people, if I set you down gently, will you promise to be a good boy and run along home?”
“Hell, no!” he swore. “Who asked you to butt in, anyway?”
“I did,” said Wilkins. “Lawrencedale Police Department.”
“You tell her to put me back where I was, or I’ll see to it you have one mother of a mess on your hands!”
“Megs, would you do me a favor and use your fingernail to scratch me a circle in the sidewalk?” Trish asked. “Make it about 10 feet around.”
The immediate crowd quieted, and even the would-be jumper watched in fascination as Megan lifted off the ground and inverted herself. With one semi-long pink fingernail, she sliced a circle into the concrete as Trish had requested. She did a mid-air back-flip on to her feet.
“What’s the circle for, Trish?” Megan asked.
“Our friend here wants to kill himself, is that right?” Trish asked.
“That’s right, so put me back, damn it!”
“I’m going to help him,” the cowboy-booted waitress continued. “I’m going to drop him from about 10,000 feet and he’s going to land -- splat -- in the middle of that circle. Better keep the crowd back,” she told Wilkins. “It could be messy.”
“You're crazy!” the man shouted in disbelief. “Tell her that’d be murder!” he shouted again at Wilkins.
Wilkins took a deep breath. “Son, it would be murder,” he said looking up at Trish and her angry but helpless human cargo. “Then again, I doubt there’s a jail in the world that could hold the young lady, even if we could catch her. So my advice to you is to take this golden opportunity to bail out of this fiasco right now.”
“The hell with y--”
Before he could finish the word, Trish rocketed them thousands of feet above the city.
Lawrencedale and the surrounding area stretched out beneath them, a tiny relief map. She dropped him. He screamed.
Trish dove beside him as he fell. The ruffled hem of her denim skirt fluttered against her bare thighs.
“Well, you got your wish honey! You’re falling to your death,” Trish shouted over the whistling air stream. “You’ve got a minute or two before you hit, though. Why don_t you tell me your name?”
Plummeting to doom like a bomb, the young man suddenly found his voice.
“Edward Strumpert,” he shouted. “Are you really going to let me hit?”
“I thought you wanted to die!”
“I’m not sure now!”
“Why’d you want to kill yourself?”
The suicide-wannabe gagged on his words as he headed for the ground at a frightening velocity. Individuals in the crowd, then individual faces in the crowd rushed toward him. The circle in the concrete grew big.
He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, and a sound like shrieking steam escaped him.
Trish caught him at the last moment and tossed him back into the stratosphere. He hurtled helplessly up. Trish laughed happily, beside him again.
She slowed in the upward trajectory as he slowed. “I just love flying, don’t you?” she asked.
Strumpert clawed futilely at the air as upward momentum changed to downward. “I give up!” he screamed. “Save me! Save me!”
“But you haven’t told me why you wanted to kill yourself!”
“Ok! I left my girlfriend a month ago, and since then my life has turned to shit!”
“Really?” The similarity of Strumpert’s admission to recent events in her own life surprised her for a moment. “Did you want to go back with her?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Did you call her or write her?”
“No! I was -- ah...ah --” The ground rushed up again, again at terrifying speed.
“Afraid, honey? Were you afraid she wouldn't take you back?”
“Yes! Catch me! Catch me!”
Trish reached out with one slim arm, entwined a long-nailed finger in his coat collar, slowed and stopped. She hovered, 1,000 feet up.
Strumpert dangled from her outstretched finger. He clamped his large, meaty hands onto her small forearm, hanging on with panicky strength. He shook convulsively, sobbing harder than Trish had, earlier. He tried frantically, unsuccessfully to swing his legs to catch hold of Trish’s slim, black leotard-clad waist.
“It’s a funny coincidence,” she said to the unmanned man squirming on the end of her finger. “My boyfriend just dropped me. . .”
Buy on Amazon
Tell us 5 Random things about you the person, not the author
#1 : I have a dog named Lambchop and another named Sophie Jones.
#2 : I like running 100-mile trail races.
#3 : My day job is marketing copywriter.
#4 : I like National Public Radio.
#5 : I'm married to a lovely woman named Karen
Where to connect online
Twitter : @LiteraryGary
Facebook : http://www.facebook.com/#!/gary.henry.5477