A Fall

She took his hand in hers and jumped. The view was stunning. Colors swirled past in a roaring rush, mixed sensations tumbling through the air between them, forming thoughts shapes and figures neither had seen nor imagined before. They soared away from the cliff, the lightly marbled rock fading into the past. The joy the two shared was paramount.The glory they beheld in one another as they fell ever further and faster was unprecedented. The love...indescribable.

She took his hand and jumped. No second thoughts, no backward glances. Tightly, she held that hand, the hand that would become her protector, her lover, her hope and her reason. Grasping that hand she felt invincible and knew the ground would never reach her, and knew the flight would never stop.

She took his hand and jumped into the chasm, naivete leading the way. The beauty of raw feeling overcame logic and reason. A charming smile, and a gentle hold brought her to the cliff and the hands led her over.

She took his hand. She gazed into his eyes. Yet a shadow remained. A spectre of the past remained to taint the beauty, the spectre engraved into her skin. The hand she followed promised the spectre would never cause him to let go, only hold on tighter. He would never let go.

The hand lied. The hand released hers and grasped onto the cliff. It began to climb.

She hit the ground. The cold unyielding ground upon which lay thousands of bones, the remains of others who had fallen from the sky. She hit the ground and shattered.

Time inched by. And unbelievably, she began to heal and to climb. She climb up the sheer rock face with all the determination of a brigade of soldiers fighting for a true and just cause. The rock tore her hands and fingers rendering them bloody and worthless at times. Sometimes she would arrive at a ledge and sit to rest and think. Soon, she gained on him. The hands she sought with her mind body and soul were near once more. They sat upon a ledge halfway up. She reached for them, muscles straining with all of their might. Their fingertips touched and the girl fell. She squeezed shut her eyes and reached for the hand she knew would be there, she hoped and prayed would be there. And yet...there was nothing. She seized only air and fell to the bottom once more.

Climbing became more and more of a tribulation. Many times she came close, but the hands served only to tease her now. They came close and then jumped out of the way leaving her to fall once more. Her body was broken. A new spectre infested itself in her skin, making its mark. Her mind fared worse.

Many months passed and she was near the top of the cliff. Faces crowded 'round, encouraging her, giving her strength. She was weary and afraid. Afraid that should she reach the top, she might never see the hands again. She sat upon a ledge and pondered for a long while. She heard gasps from the crowd and looked up to see those lovely hateful hands holding a new set. The new set was damaged, she could see it. She saw him and knew he would let go of that one too. She fell again, still.

Tired of this cycle, she lashed out, giving herself over to rage that could not be contained. She latched onto the cliff face and ascended up with renewed fervor. At long last, gasping for air and longing for healing, she collapsed onto the soft grass at the apex of the precipice. Never again, she mumbled, never again.