The sun was shining and there was barely a cloud in the sky as we gained altitude over the picturesque Bay of Islands on the east coast of New Zealand.

At least if it all went wrong; Id have a nice view as I plummeted to my death.

The de Havilland Twin Otters engines buzzed with the ferocity of a thousand agitated hornets. The noise didnt drown out the constant chatter in my mind though, as the plane circled towards our exit altitude.

Of all the stupid things Ive done in my life this could quite possibly be the daddy of them all. Why did I allow myself to be talked into this? I mean, who the hell jumps out of a plane without a bloody parachute?

This wasnt exactly the positive mindset required to perform the most dangerous stunt of your life, so far.

It took fifteen minutes from the plane left the runway until I was standing at the open door, with no chute, 12,000ft AGL (above ground level).

It was now or never.

I took a deep breath and then jumped.

The wind pummelled my face as I nose-dived towards the earth. A surge of adrenaline rushed through my veins causing my heart to race and limbs to vibrate.

Feelings of freedom intertwined with euphoria, ecstasy from head to toe.

But through this sea of mixed emotions, there was just one thing on my mind;

Would my catcher reach me before we hit the minimum pack opening altitude, the point of no return?

This piece was inspired by a writing prompt I received with the challenge being to write a short opening to an article or a blog post using only one of the predetermined headline titles provided.

Thanks for reading.