He

• Jaimee Narracott, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2016

His hair ruffled lightly in the breeze as he stood precariously close to the edge of the cliff. Below him he could see the jagged rocks and he could hear the rhythmic crash of the ocean, dancing along the shore. He gazed at the large expanse of water as it glimmered in the rising sun and he basked in the warm glow of the sun breaching the horizon before his eyes.
As he stared at the crystal-like water swirling below him, he could only imagine his appearance. His dishevelled brown hair clinging to his face, hiding most of the dirt and soot that coated his skin. His warm, brown eyes just visible under the mop his fringe resembled and his freckles hidden under the little splatter of blood coating his cheeks. He couldn't imagine what his facial expression would be. He was consumed by despair and anger and blistering hatred, far beyond his years. His small frame shook in the wind as he relived his past. It was all too much.
He closed his eyes, listening to the soft caw of the sea gulls and the whoosh of the wind. He let his mind fly, an attempt to silence the overwhelming emotions threatening to consume him. He stood there for what seemed like hours, feeling pieces of himself float away, like dust, in the wind. With these pieces went the overwhelming guilt and the crushing sense of loss that had gripped him in its icy vice.
He grasped onto hope.
This was his chance to re-invent himself. To forget about his past and move forward towards a life worth living.
With one last look at the dazzling sight before him he turned, a determined glint in his eyes and a small smirk tweaking the corners of his lips. He walked away, leaving only an imprint of his footsteps in the damp grass.