Edge of the Cliff

She always stood at the cliff’s edge. Her arm outstretched, across the crashing waves, the thrashing deep blue waters covered in the thick foam, out towards the vast, yet to be explored, ocean. People never seemed to notice her, but I did. The first time I saw her, I must have been young, at least young enough to notice these things. I remember her well, she was wearing a tattered cloth gown that had been white at some point but was now drowned by greys and blacks. She never turned back to face the people in the town, nor the ships that passed her daily. As I grew older, the more I would insist I saw her, but the more people argued against me. My mother would often tell me it was the light playing tricks on me, and how she would cast me out if I continued to push such ridiculous nonsense. That did quieten me for a while. With her forced out of my mind, I turned my attention to other things, such as my dream of being a sailor. Soon enough, she faded from my memory, the woman who stood at the edge of the cliff.

It must have been five years since I last remembered her that I got married to Angeline. Beautiful girl. Black hair and bright green eyes, I fell for her immediately and we were married before the year's end. Together, we moved back home to my place of birth and bought a small cottage by the coast. My parents had contributed to its purchase, but I was the one to secure the loan and settle on the price, and we moved in a within that same year. It was a small thing with white walls and a thatched roof that allowed birds to nest. It was something Angeline was interested in, and I was happy to facilitate her wants.

The following year, I was hired aboard The Hailing Billows, a ship captained by a Mr Roger Swindom, a fine man who was a professor of mine when I was a schoolboy. He took me aboard with little question and gave me a fine position as his second in command, a placement unusual for someone of my age and experience. Before sailing on The Hailing Billows, I mopped the deck of the Imperial ships that docked nearby, rarely getting the chance to lift my head from the deck, let alone steer the vessel. Captain Swindom’s ship wasn’t a large one, mainly used for cargo and freight. A ship for hire, you might say, and we were away from shore for months at a time. I couldn’t bear to leave my dear Angeline alone for that long, so I told her to stand at the edge of the dock every time I would return, so I would always be greeted by her beautiful face and warm smile. And she did, for three years. I would go out to sea and return to her loving embrace with tales to astonish her, tales of mountains that pierced the sky, tales of creatures that could eat a man whole, tales of tragedy and heartbreak, of happiness and woe. I told them all to her. She experienced my world, her smile remaining constant.

But then, she started to change. Not in the negative sense, but she always seemed distracted. Her mind away, as if out with me at sea. She remained the attentive wife she always was, but whenever we spoke, she never seemed to be with me. She never asked for my tales, never asked to be wowed and amazed by the places I saw and the people I met. She just stopped. I asked her one night over dinner. It was the usual, a soup of some kind she had picked up while at the market. It was Monday and she always bought something she did not need.

“My dear,” I said. “Are you alright?” She lifted her head and smiled at me, her pearly whites beaming forth.

“Of course darling,” she replied heartily. “Why? Do I not look it?” I shook my head.

“No, no, no,” I insisted. “You look radiant as ever…” I paused, choosing my words carefully. Angeline was a girl you didn’t want angry at you. She had many friends and many favours. One wrong word or move and I would get a letter from some mysterious man in the days to come, and yet still not know what I had done wrong. “You just seem a little distant, dear,” I said slowly. Her smile faded and she cleared her throat, genially placing her spoon down beside her and dabbing her mouth with her napkin.

“It’s just,” she started, “I've been hearing about a lot of rumours about this spirit that resides on the cliff. Have you seen it?” I pulled back in surprise. She was referring to the woman at the edge of the cliff. I hadn't thought about her for many a year, and for her to come up again from my wife’s mouth certainly was a surprise.

“I remember seeing her as a boy,” I said, “but I haven’t thought about her in years.”

“So, the spirit is a woman?” Angeline asked. I opened and closed my mouth silently, my worries subsiding as a smile stretched across my wife’s face. She was playing with me. “Yes, I know about that. But you never told me, darling.”

“It never came up,” I justified. “I hadn't thought about her for years, even before I met you.” I narrowed my eyes at her and leaned forward. “Why has she got you in such a state?” Angeline sat back and sighed, removing her napkin from her lap and standing, walking towards me. I moved my chair out and she sat on my lap, looping her arms around my shoulders and looking deep into my eyes, still smiling.

“Because,” she said, “she bears a striking resemblance to me.”  I pulled back slightly. The precise look of the woman who stood at the edge of the cliff was unknown to me, I never decided to look into the matter. To hear she looked like my dear Angeline was a shock, to say the least. I gently pulled Angeline closer to me and brought her head down so it laid against my chest. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around me and sighed deeply.

“Angeline,” I whispered. “Pay no attention to it. You are fine. We are fine.” She nodded slowly but I could tell my words didn’t cure her ills. By the next week, Captain Swindom called me back on board The Hailing Billows, but I wasn’t ready to leave. Despite our conversation, Angeline hadn't returned to me, her mind still wandering the cliffs. But, I was required, and would be replaced if I didn’t go. Angeline accompanied me to the dock, ready to see me off. I turned to her as the last of the cargo we were transporting was taken on. Her eyes were looking at the cliff. I sighed.

“My dear,” I said, snapping her green orbs back to me.

“Yes darling?” she said.

“Will you be standing on the dock? Waiting for my return?” I asked. She nodded with a smile. I thanked her and turned away to the ship, feeling the Captain’s eyes on my back. I had learned to be careful of him quickly. We were released from the dock and the ropes were pulled onto the deck, our sails full and hearts full of pride. She was away again. I turned to wave to Angeline, but her eyes were distracted once again. I continued to wave, but she didn’t see, turning away from the dock and marching towards the land. I dropped my hand and my face crumpled into a frown.

The next few months were nothing but hardship. The Hailing Billows had multiple run-ins with pirates and coral reefs, its wooden sides patched up with what we could find. Several crew members had fallen overboard during the battles, one even trying to start a mutiny. He was killed almost instantaneously by Captain Swindom, who had been invited to the first meeting by another crewmember. It was the toughest few months I had experienced in my short years sailing, but there was always rum and meat at the end of a hard days labour. We had made good time for the first trip, delivering the cargo a day earlier than expected, but the journey back was worse. Several storms bashed us around like fish in a barrel, not to mention the pirates I mentioned earlier. We fought valiantly, but we arrived home a week later than planned, much to the irritation of Captain Swindom, who seemed to blame us for the delay. I, however, was too distracted to listen to his shouts. From the moment I could see the dock over the horizon, my heart soared in the hope Angeline would be there to greet me, but as we drew closer and closer, I could not see her. At first, I thought it was because she was waiting further back along the dock, making room for the other ships to load their cargo. But no. She was nowhere to be seen.

I helped unload The Hailing Billows and received my cut of the payment, quickly making my excuses and lightly jogging home, only to find it empty. It didn’t seem like someone had been there for several days. The chairs were neatly tucked in under the table and the fire was set up, ready for the meal that night, or at least, the meal that was for that night. The window beside the fire was open, glass covering the floor around it. Chewed up bones and mouldy pieces of meat scattered the floor, dried saliva shining from the small amount of sunlight that stretched through. The bread’s moulded corpse sat beside it, covered in green and black, no longer the plump, fresh brown I am used to. I frowned further and I looked around the rest of the cottage. No one was here. Through the window beside the fireplace, I saw Mrs Hemite, the lovely old woman who lived beside us with her always sleepy husband. I darted out of the cottage and ran to her, her eyes tearing up immediately as I saw her.

“Oh!” she cried, wrapping arms around me. “Mr Randoff! I am so sorry! How could this happen!? To someone so young!” My heart jumped and I crouched beside her, forcing her to release my shoulders. She continued to cry.

“What do you mean, Mrs Hemite?” I asked, hand graciously against her shoulder. “Please, tell me!” She looked up at me with her warbling, teary brown eyes, a light sigh coming through her lips.

“You’ve just come home, haven’t you?” she whispered.  I nodded slowly and she started crying again. I sighed, a little annoyed at this point, and patted her shoulder again.

“Please tell me,” I said sincerely. She opened her mouth and explained. My heart dropped, plunging into my stomach, dissolved in the acid that lay there. I dropped to Mrs Hemite’s grassy garden floor, hand clutched around hers. I could cry. There was nothing to cry. The energy I had was expelled from my body, thrown into the air and turned to flames, burning me. She was gone. My beloved. Gone. I looked at Mrs Hemite, mouth open and eyes wide, tearless. She was crying my tears. She rested a wrinkled hand on my cheek and said something I didn’t hear. I didn’t care to hear anymore. Her last words to me echoed through my mind. She said she wanted to see me dock, but she didn’t mean it. She was too distracted. A thought snapped through my mind and I jumped to my feet, eagerness and glee spreading through me. Mrs Hemite stepped back, nervous at the suddenly excited man before her.

“How far did she get up?” I asked. The old woman shrugged, wiping her tears from her face.

“Where they all fall…” she said slowly, her words trailing off, recalling the number of people who had fallen to the sand below. I smiled at her and kissed her forehead, jumping to my feet and running off towards the path to the top of the cliff. The path that led to the woman who stood at the edge of the cliff. I began to climb. It was easy at first, a simple gravel pathway that twisted around the boulders and rocks that had sprouted from the ground over the years. Here, the path was used as a communal area for groups to meet and hiding spots for some of the younger members of the community. Then, however, it got worse. The sheer face of the cliff started its way towards you, the path remaining straight until the last possible minute before it fell away, revealing a cobbled, crumbled path that many a climber had left as they start their journey up. The further you went, the thinner it got, until your foot could barely sit on the edge.

I clung to the wall, my feet pressed tightly together as I tip-toed my way across. I knew it wasn’t the best climbing manoeuvre, many others had tried different ways, but I pressed on. Soon enough, I could see the grassy patch where the woman always stood. Still, she was concealed by the cliff face before me, only allowing me to see the stones that covered the floor and the strong winds brushing the sea air into my face. I lifted my foot and brought it forward, only for it to snag, and I toppled forwards, arms stretched out and scream echoing. Then, my foot was propelled forward and it landed on the patch of grass. I fell to the ground, weeping with joy, clutching my still broken heart. As my laughter and sighs slowly quietened, I looked up and saw her. The woman who stood at the edge of the cliff.

She was turned away from me, her black hair motionless, unaffected by the winds. Her gown was long and was once white, now turned grey. Her arm wasn’t outstretched but by her side, and I could hear a soft humming coming from her, like a lullaby from a mother to her baby. Her entire body emitted a heavenly blue glow, only just translucent enough to see the sea beyond her. I got to my feet, carefully checking I was safe, and stepped forward, reaching my own hand out.

“Angeline?” I whispered. The hum stopped and the woman turned, revealing her ghostly face, pale and wide-eyed. It was my Angeline. Her green eyes pierced through the blue hue and her smile was still just as warm as it had always been.

“Hello, my love,” she said slowly. Her voice echoed around us, like we were contained, but I could still hear the ocean roaring beneath us.

“I don’t…” I tried, but my words failed me. I could feel my eyes watering, my legs shaking and my heart pounding. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or relief. “You're here,” I whispered. She didn’t respond. “How did you come up here? How long have you been here? Are you…?”

“All questions will be answered, my love,” she said, her smile stretching further. I frowned at her. She stepped aside and gestured to the edge. “Stand with me.”

“But I have to…” I started. “How do I get down?” This time, she frowned.

“Get down?” she asked. “How will you get down?” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“I can't remain here forever, my dear, I have to continue my life.” Gracefully, she walked passed me and gestured to the path I had taken, then to the beach below. I froze, dreading the sight I would find. Slowly, gradually, I moved closer to the edge, peering over it, my eyes landing on the figure that lay on the sand, sprawled and bloody. A group had formed around it, looking up and trying to see where it had fallen. I jumped back, heart still pounding and lungs taking deep breaths.

“I am sorry, dear,” Angeline said softly. “But you have nowhere to return to. Our home will be taken, our parents will mourn, but…” She stopped and walked towards me, stretching out her hand. “We can be together.” I took her hand and stood, holding it tightly as we walked to the edge of the cliff. I could see the dock beside us, The Hailing Billows still docked there, its Captain taking swigs from a bottle of rum, tossing it into the sea as it ran dry.

“I will miss him,” I muttered. Angeline smiled at me and looked towards the Captain.

“You’ll see him again,” she said, nestling herself closer to me. We looked back out towards the ocean, the horizon stained orange and the sun slowly set beside us, pink and yellow clouds stretched across the sky. In the distance, a few boats bobbed along, their sails full and crews singing merrily. As much as she could, Angeline pulled herself closer to me, sighing as the day closed. “You’ll see the world pass us.”