Vertigo
Gripping the edge of the roof, he glanced down at the street below and willed his heart to stop pounding. He tipped his head backwards and tried to focus on the sky around him, desperate to slow his racing thoughts. Despite his best efforts, he could still see the ground below, teeming with people.
Get it together, he thought.
Every day it was the same. He knew he had a job to do — and he’d always done it well — but he had not figured out how to conquer that persistent rush of fear or that dizzying lull towards the edge. He still didn’t feel sure-footed up here, not even after all this time.
He watched the others from the corner of his eye, wondering how they did it. If they were scared, they never showed it. Sometimes he thought he heard a snicker or two and he always immediately assumed it was at his expense, but thankfully none of them had ever said anything to him. They just ignored him and went about their own business.
As he risked a glance at the ground, he noticed a young woman stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. She stared up at them with a camera in her hands. She didn’t look like a typical tourist, but the locals were used to seeing them up here and tended to ignore them as they rushed past.
Ugh, please don’t stare, please just go, he thought.
It was always worse when he knew that they were watching him, waiting for him to lose his balance and fall. He held himself very still and mentally urged her to keep moving. Instead, she lifted her camera and pointed it directly at him.
Poor guy, she thought.
She focused on the figure perched high atop the roof of the church and snapped several quick pictures with her camera. Pulling the images up on the small display screen, she zoomed in to get a closer look at him.
He seemed to be leaning a little more forward than the rest, tilted rather precariously over the edge of the building. His head was frozen at an odd angle, arched slightly up and back, making his wide, bulging eyes stare into the sky rather than out over the city or down toward the people below. The grimace on his face wasn’t the least bit menacing, even with the lips parted in a sneer over clenched teeth. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear that gargoyle was afraid of heights.
