Swing.

He had been swinging for the past 30 minutes. The swing was fashioned by his father from the big oak tree outside his house. It was hung from a humongous branch at the top of the tree. When the boy took a swing, it felt as if he was stepping across an entire continent. He leaned back and used his legs to propel himself further forward. He felt the air brush briskly against his back as the swing returned him to starting position. He leaned into it, preparing for his biggest push yet. Just as his feet were about to swing forward, ready to fly him across the world, the rope of the swing snapped. He fell. He fell further and further. Falling for what felt like an eternity. A hole just beneath the swing had enveloped him, a hole that didn’t seem to ever end. He grew used to the feeling of freefall. Surrounded by darkness in a never ending descent, he could do nothing but feel himself falling.