Fallen

• Alyssa Williams, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2011

My toes curl over the edge of the rocky cliff face. It’s slightly cool outside, the temperature just enough to cover my pale flesh with goose bumps. The sky is stormy, the clouds a new shade of creamy grey. The sea rumbles beneath me, both violent and peaceful. I can already imagine the taste of salt on my tongue.

The wind is howling like a lover scorned, whipping my long, obsidian hair around behind me and onto my face. There is a crack of thunder, suddenly, unexpectedly. I wobble slightly on the edge. I wonder if I will die when I fall. The concept of death always intrigued me, like a curio might pique the curiosity of a scientist.

This is my favourite place. It’s always so peaceful and beautiful, even in the middle of a storm. If you time it just right, you can see the last sliver of the Sun as it sinks slowly under the horizon. The sky turns brilliant hues of pinks, oranges and yellows as it does so. I often come out here just to capture it in a photograph.

My camera is not with me today. Today, I am alone, without anything.

There is a gold necklace looped around my throat, it’s pendant sitting in the hollow of the base of my throat, where I can feel my pulse beat against it. Thump. Thump. Thump. Each beat carries more of my life away. I will never experience that moment again. While one of my hearts is beating my life away, the other is immobile, immortalized in gold, sitting on my throat.

In these moments, I feel the most alive. My body tingles with electricity, every breath exhilarating. All the way, from my toes to my fingertips, to the ends of my hair, I feel my own life force. It feels formidable, incredible. I can do anything in these moments.

I turn my back on the setting sun, on the howling winds, on the churning sea and spread my arms wide. The gale rushes past me, crashing into my back, pushing my hair onto my face even more. My clothes are wrapping at weird angles to hug my body, keeping me warm though I should be freezing.

The first drop of rain falls, lands on my bottom lip. It slips through my lips, caressing my tongue lightly before fading, leaving me with the taste of water as a memory. Another drop lands on my outstretched hand, then one on my forehead. Soon enough, it is raining hard.

I am laughing, completely saturated. My clothes are sopping and indeed, it feels as if the rain will soak through my skin, perhaps to reach my bones. I turn back to face the Sun, which has now set.

My toes breach the edge of the cliff, not so carefully this time. There is hardly any warning as the dirt crumbles away beneath my sudden weight. There is no time to muster a scream.

Falling.
Falling.
Fallen.