MENTOR: Cora Carmack

MENTEE: Megan Just



WORD COUNT: 87,000



After her stunt pilot father’s horrific death, a daredevil rock-climber is the last person April should be falling for. Because in one month her documentary internship will have them meeting on a perilous cliff. She’ll be filming. He won’t be using a rope.



April stared at the tent ceiling. She could actually see it now that dawn had arrived. She could also see her breath. It had been that cold last night.

Filming in Yosemite would take about three months. That was ninety nights.

She’d barely survived one.

How was she going to make it through eighty-nine more?

Her throat was raw, and her nose dripping like mad. She’d hardly slept with all the creaky tree branches and eerie animal noises making her mind replay scenes from slasher movies. The few times she’d drifted off, she awoke in a claustrophobic panic inside the tiny sleeping bag, her pajamas twisted around her like a tourniquet.

Worst of all, if bladders could physically burst, hers was about to. She couldn’t stall any longer. She had to get out of the tent.

April wiggled out of her sleeping bag. The freezing air bit at her skin as she changed out of her pajamas in record time.

She reached for the tent door and hesitated. It had been dark when she arrived last night and she had no idea what—or who—was outside. She really didn’t want to start her internship and re-meet her crewmates in daylight with a crust of dried drool on her cheek.

Pain shot across her abdomen. If she didn’t get a move on, there was going to be an accident.

She unzipped the tent and peeked outside. Madigan, the director of photography, was over at the picnic table.

He turned around. Oh, God.

3 comments to PW-39 (NA): FEAR OF FALLING

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