The cliff is high above the small town the distance dizzying to the eye. A breeze blows quietly, waving the grass silently, tossing loose petals and leaves off the edge.

She waits.

Clouds roll by overhead, concealing and revealing the sun as they drift off to nowhere. A bird sings; a squirrel jumps; a twig snaps; the gentle wind stops.

She sings.

Her voice flows through the air like a waterfall, tumbling words and notes in a constant stream of melody. The scene becomes still, all occupants giving the unfamiliar music a chance to sink in.

She stops.

The town lies below, unaware of the even which has taken place up above. The wind stirs again, brushing around pollen and wishies, sending them down the sleeping city.

She cries.

A love lost, a love found, and a love never conceived. All three meet on this mountain cliff, tormenting this innocent soul who only wishes to be happy. To have it all is to have nothing, and to have nothing is to die. She wants one and needs the other.

She does not know which is which.

Time passes; the sun sets; the air grows cold. And, with a sigh that is carried by the breeze miles away, she sleeps.
 
 

Jvillegrl
4am one Friday morning
Spring Semester, 2001