The Dropzone Keys
- Bruce Eickelman
- Feb 28
- 3 min read
The Drop Zone Keys
It was a crisp Saturday morning, and the hum of airplane engines rumbled across the open field. Lisa stood near the edge of the hangar, her jumpsuit snug, parachute strapped tightly to her back. She had dreamed of this moment for years—a chance to leap from the sky, to feel the rush of freefall and the pure exhilaration of flight. But now, with the moment finally here, doubt started creeping in.
The other skydivers gathered near the plane, buzzing with excitement. Lisa, though, hung back, gripping the straps of her parachute like a lifeline. Her instructor, Greg, noticed her hesitation and walked over with a reassuring grin.
"Lisa, you alright?" he asked, his voice calm.
She hesitated. "I thought I was ready. But now... I don’t know."
Greg nodded. "First freefall is always the hardest. It’s not about fear; it’s about trust—trusting your equipment, your training, and mostly, yourself."
Lisa glanced at the plane, it's doors open and waiting. Her heart pounded. "I've done static line jumps before, but this is different. Those jumps were automatic. This time, it's all on me. What if I mess it up?"
Greg reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, weathered set of keys. He placed them in her hand. "These are for you."
She frowned. "Keys? What do they open?"
Greg just smiled. "Something important. You’ll see."
The Ascent
Lisa climbed into the plane, still clutching the keys. As the aircraft climbed higher, so did her anxiety. The roar of the engine, the thinness of the air, the sheer vastness of the sky—it all pressed down on her. She turned the keys over in her palm, their metal cool and solid.
"What are these for?" she wondered again. They seemed ordinary, but they felt... heavier somehow, like they meant something more.
Greg’s words echoed in her mind: They unlock something important.
The plane leveled off at 13,000 feet. This wasn’t like her tandem jumps or static line dives. No automatic chute deployment. No backup system kicking in. This time, she had to pull the ripcord herself. The instructor signaled it was time.
One by one, the skydivers leapt into the void, their laughter snatched away by the wind. Lisa was the last.
She shuffled to the open door, her breath shallow. Below, the earth was nothing but a patchwork of greens and browns, impossibly far away. Greg stood beside her, giving her a thumbs-up.
"You’ve got this," he said.
Lisa hesitated, fear knotting in her stomach. She looked at the keys in her hand, then back at Greg.
"What do they unlock?" she shouted over the wind.
Greg leaned in, his eyes serious. "They unlock you."
The Leap
Lisa took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the keys. Suddenly, the fear faded. She understood. The keys weren’t about a lock. They were about letting go. About trust. About jumping.
She turned to Greg, nodded once, and stepped out into the sky.
The first few seconds were chaos. The wind howled past her ears, her body tumbled. But then, she steadied. Arms and legs spread wide. Fear melted away, replaced by something else—something powerful.
Freedom.
Lisa laughed, the sound lost to the sky. She glanced at the keys still in her hand and smiled. Greg had been right. They had unlocked something.
Her.
The Landing
Her parachute deployed flawlessly, and moments later, she was gliding toward the earth. When her feet touched the ground, the other skydivers cheered. Greg jogged over, grinning.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
Lisa exhaled, handing him the keys. "Different," she said. "Like something changed."
Greg slipped the keys back into his pocket. "Good. They’re ready for the next person."
Lisa tilted her head. "Do they always work?"
Greg’s eyes twinkled. "Every time."
Aftermath
That night, Lisa sat on the hood of her car, staring at the stars. The day’s events replayed in her mind, but now, she saw them differently. The keys had never been about unlocking something external. They had unlocked her.
She thought about the next person Greg would hand them to—someone standing at the edge of doubt, waiting to leap. She hoped they would feel what she had felt.
As the last light faded from the sky, Lisa smiled. She had taken the jump. She had faced the fear. And she had learned something she’d never forget.
The keys weren’t for a door.
They were for the soul.
And now you know… the rest of the story.
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