One of these was, 'The Falling Man'. No longer quite recall what I intended to do with him or into which story he fitted, but I do remember that, either hurled from an aircraft or evicted by -- after all, only so many times one can be abducted or anally probed, neh? -- all he did was drop through the endless sky, reflecting on his life as he fell, perhaps catching the occasional bird on which to snack or quaffing water from from cloud banks, only stopping briefly to dance like that Twilight Zone gremlin (the one who so upset William Shatner, you'll recall) on the wings of passing jet planes.
And now I find I am that man, falling forever, reminiscing.
Life, or its simulacrum, imitating art.
Even if that art will never be seen.
