Eleanor

• Ruby Baird, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2009

The grass is wet and uncomfortable. I shiver in the cold morning air, bitter wind slapping my face. The view is exquisite, unbelievable. It’s early, just after dawn, and it’s the perfect day to be here. Mist shrouds the horizon, and the sea blends flawlessly with the sky, so you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. I rap my arms around my frail body, remembering another day like this...
THE WAVES CRASH AGAINST THE ROCKS AND WHITE FOAM SPRAYS THE CRUMBLY FACE OF THE CLIFF. I’M BEING RECKLESS, JUMPING AROUND ON THE EDGE. ELEANOR GIGGLES AND PULLS ME BACK.
I smile at the memory and tears sting my eyes. I blink them back and stand.
SHE POKES HER TONGUE OUT, DANCES AROUND, GRINNING AT ME STUPIDLY. I ROLL MY EYES, BUT LAUGH AND ROLL ONTO THE SOFT GROUND. SHE COLLAPSES BESIDE ME AND I TURN MY HEAD AND SMILE AT HER. SHE SMILES BACK, HER TEETH GLISTENING IN THE PALE SUNLIGHT.
I begin to shake uncontrollably. I close my eyes and her face appears, smiling, happy. I force myself to open them, as the image is just too much to bear.
SHE GRABS MY HAND AND RESTS HER HEAD ON MY SHOULDER.
This is the hard part. I feel like my lungs are closing in and I can’t breathe, or see, or hear.
I GET UP, PULLING HER WITH ME. WE’RE COLD AND HUNGRY. IT’S TIME TO GO HOME. I PEER OVER THE EDGE, DOWN AT THE MENACING ROCKS, JAGGED AND SHARP. I PRETEND TO FALL, MAKING ELLIE GASP, AND I LAUGH. SHE SMILES AND SHAKES HER HEAD, COMING OVER TO ME TO PULL ME BACK.
So many times she had pulled me back, closer to her, out of danger. She was like that. But this time was different. I slam my eyes shut, refusing to let the tears fall.
I STEP AWAY FROM THE EDGE. SHE TURNS TO FOLLOW, BUT AS SHE DOES, THE ROCK UNDERNEATH HER CRUMBLES AND GIVES WAY. A SHORT HIGH-PITCHED SCREAM ESCAPES HER MOUTH, HER BLUE EYES WIDE AND ALARMED. I REACH OUT, INSTINCTIVELY, BUT SHE’S ALREADY GONE.
And finally, I give up. I let the tears flow, a salty waterfall down my face and neck. Just like I had years ago, I peer over the edge of the cliff. The same jagged rocks. The same dark ominous ocean, crashing out to beyond my line of sight, on and on and on. These rocks are blurry though, blurry with my tears, cascading down my face. I blink. Suddenly everything is painfully clear. A hoarse sob escapes my chest.
“El?” I whisper. Another sob. “Ellie?” I say, a little louder. I wonder if she can hear me. I doubt it. Because only people who are alive can hear, not dead people. Not people who have died, who are dead, and are never going to be alive again. I wonder what that’s like. And now I am falling, falling, falling.