Modo-Twist and Fall

	And here he was falling again, this time into a deep pit. Time had slowed down, as though the grains of sand in an hourglass were dropping one by one. He counted the stakes. Sixteen in all. Sharpened bamboo.

	He could relive every moment of his life if he so wished; he pictured the first time he'd seen Octavia in her green dress; the way she had looked as he clung to her arm about to fall from the Hugo; her horrified face as he dropped past the Prince Albert. Did this slowing down of time happen to everyone before they died?

	He concentrated. Impossible to avoid hitting the ground. Unfortunately, his weight and speed would ensure the stakes would pierce him through. Unless, he thought, I twist myself. He'd seen cats fly through the air. They were always able to turn and land on their feet. If he landed on his side there was a chance he'd fall into the gap between the stakes.

	Time was speeding up, so he twisted his body, only to find he was now falling back first. He glimpsed the natives at the edge of the hole, angry faces glaring down as they waited for his death. Desperate, he twisted again. He'd die with his murderers being his last sight. At the last moment he rotated-and fell between the stakes. One stake glanced off his mask, knocking it askew, then he thudded against the ground on his right shoulder. (Slade, 194-195)