Young Writers Society

"You're crazy!" they say
As I straddle the barrel,
Ready to climb inside.
I clutch my cat, the mangy beast
Who's come along for the ride.
"We must protest!" the people cry
"You may not make it alive!"
"That's a risk I'm willing to take.
See you on the other side!"

My barrel is hurled over Horseshoe Falls
The wind whirling hair out of place.
There's a powerful mist surrounding the falls;
Wet needles pelting my face.
I strike the surface with a deafening crash
The current dragging me down.
The barrel now broken,
I struggle to the surface.
Ready to face the crowd.

Instead I face the unexpected,
There was no one there to see me
Except the barren wilderness
And the roaring falls, you see.
I fumble through the rapids,
Trying to find my way,
When I am dragged beneath the water
Below the mighty spray.

I resurface in an instant
Spluttering in shock
When I notice the dangerous risk I took
Among the spear-sharp rocks

Dazed, I stare
Too stunned to believe
In a creature known only to myth.
Within the fog
I could have sworn I saw
The legendary Maid of the Mist.

I was the first to perform this stunt
But I definitely wasn't the last.
Many more came after
Attempting it just for laughs.

Those arrogant fools
Who thought they could do better
Caused much peril and strife.
Their barrels crashed
Against the rocks
With that, they lost their life.

I will never do this again.
It's too dangerous per se.
I might have to pay an unfortunate price
Which is death, I'm sad to say.