Collection 1: "The Ravine" by Graham Salisbury

When Vinny and three others dropped down into the ravine, they entered a jungle thick with tangled trees and rumors of what might have happened to the dead boy’s body.

The cool breeze that swept the Hawaiian hillside pastures above died early in the descent.

Vinny moved to the edge of the trail, where the ravine fell through a twisted jungle of gnarly trees and underbrush to the stream far below.

Mo and Joe-Boy threw their towels onto the rocks and dove into the pond. Vinny watched, his muddy towel hooked around his neck. Reluctantly, he let it fall, then dove in after them.

His mother scoffed and waved him off.

Mo jumped in the same way Joe-Boy had, man-style, splayed out in a suicide fall.

The trail was no wider than the length of his foot. And it was wet and muddy from little rivulets of water that bled from the side of the cliff.

Somebody from below shouted, but Vinny couldn’t make it out over the waterfall, roaring down just feet beyond the ledge where he would soon be standing, cascading past so close its mist dampened the air he breathed.

He stood, swaying slightly, the tips of his toes one small movement from the precipice.

For a moment Vinny’s mind went blank, as if he were in some trance, some dream where he could so easily lean out and fall, and think or feel nothing.