conquest of fear. This was the one statement that bounced around in Dennis Mayfield's mind. Even though he was terrified of heights, Dennis was out to prove to his teasing work mates just how daring he could be ... by jumping from an airplane 2,500 feet in the sky.

Hands shaking with nervousness, Dennis fastened on his helmet. He neared the open doorway and dared to look down at the snow-capped Rocky Mountains. He gasped as he quickly pulled his head back in. It was a cool, damp April morning. The sky was alight, uniform blue with occasional wisps of white clouds. The peaks of the mountains were concealed by a layer of fog, settling in for the morning.

Dennis buckled on his backpack and safety gear. His heartbeat tripled and his knees weakened. His palms and face broke out in a cold sweat. He breathed slowly and deeply, hoping to exhale his nervousness and fears, so that they would evaporate into the air and never bother him again.

"I just have to prove to everyone at the office that I am not a coward. I have to prove to myself that I'm not a coward,'' he mumbled confidently, and with that, he squeezed his eyes shut, and threw himself from the plane, arms and legs spread wide.

When Dennis opened his eyes, he turned his head and saw the airplane, its engine droning against the harsh, loud noise of the wind in his ears. He looked down on the mountains, which seemed to draw the tension away from him.

Peaks and valleys of snow stretched as far as the eye could see. The cold wind stung his face and nipped at his ears, which were already numb from the coldness.

Falling quickly, Dennis decided to open the parachute. Fumbling for the pull-cord, he realised his hands had also gone numb. He was not able to feel anything and began to panic. His pulse quickened again and he pictured himself flat and lifeless on the ground, because he wasn't able to open his parachute.

Suddenly, his hand got a hold of a rope and pulled it, praying that it was the right one.

There was a loud, flapping sound of musty-smelling material. Dennis felt himself being pulled up for a few seconds as he realised it had opened safely.

The wind caught the parachute and carried Dennis northwards along the Rockies.

He relaxed a little, long enough to breathe in the fresh morning air and to admire the scenery. Far away, three large birds circled in the air.

The mountain peaks seemed to be growing larger, and trees became more distinct. Dennis knew that he was getting close to the ground. Relieved that his adventure in the air would soon be over, he steered himself towards a small clearing at the base of a mountain. He slowly drifted to the ground, anticipating a perfect landing. He fell through a wild tangle of branches, twigs and leaves which scratched at his hands and face. Then suddenly, sharp pain darted from Dennis's knees to his hips, and through the rest of his body as he hit the ground. Pain darted to his head which made him feel dizzy, like someone had put him in a giant centrifuge and turned it on. Everything seemed to spin around quicker and quicker until it became a blur ... then black.

Dennis had fainted from shock.

Dennis was lying on his back. When he woke up, he found himself staring up through branches at the sky. His vision was blurry, and as he reached up to rub his eyes, he saw that the face of his Indiglo watch was broken. The time was 8:36 am, just over a half an hour after he jumped from the air plane.

Dennis tried to sit up; the pain rushed to his back and shoulders. He was sweating, and his pulse quickened. Turning and looking up behind him, he focused on a confused mass of ropes and material, tangled in the trees above.

After about ten minutes, Dennis was on his feet, pulling in 65 square yards of material. He began to walk northwards, according to his compass. The foliage gradually thinned out, and soon, he found himself on a rocky ledge on the side of a mountain, about six feet off the ground. It became steeper and more difficult to climb; rocks and soil tumbled down every time Dennis tried to grab on to something.

Eventually, he came to a small, dark dugout, almost a cave, in the side of the mountain. He crawled into it. The floor was cold and damp. Dennis took off his gear and sat at the edge, his feet hanging down. Branches and ferns grew out of the side. Birds fluttered about happily from tree to tree. The atmosphere had gotten warmer, and the sun peeked out from behind a cloud. Dennis noticed, from where he was, that the fog had disappeared. He took a deep breath, once again inhaling the crisp, clean air.

Dennis smiled to himself, at the fact that he had once been terrified of heights. It was a silly thought to him now; however, there would still be that tiny part of him that would remain uneasy about going up in an airplane and jumping from it, not knowing whether his parachute would open or not.

TERESA WHITTER Year 4 Warwick Academy