Eve White: Literary Agent

from WITHOUT LOOKING BACK

A piece of rock hit him in the elbow with a blinding crack and propelled him forwards and outwards so that suddenly his bike was falling out from under him and the world began to spin. It was what he imagined it would be like to be trapped in a giant washing machine, spinning round with incredible force, the ground coming up to slap him in the face at every turn. The firm knowledge that it would stop soon, that the ground would have to level out eventually, was of surprisingly little comfort. He closed his eyes, forced to submit to the inevitability of his roll, every crack sending shock waves of pain throughout his body and overriding any other sensation he could have possibly felt. It should have all been over in a couple of seconds and in real time apparently it was, but his fall down the hillside seemed to last forever. Something caught him hard, above the ear and there seemed to be a moment of complete darkness before something hit his knee, forcing him to acknowledge consciousness. And when the tumbling finally stopped, it took him by surprise and he thought he must still be rolling, although he could feel he was lying perfectly still in the grass. He kept his eyes closed, teeth clenched, still expecting another hit, but none came. And it seemed he had been lying there forever before he realized he was staring up at a brilliant blue sky.