A sudden persistent gust of wind pushes against her figure and she rebalances her feet. Looking over the edge, not to see where she’s going but to encourage the excitement that is sinking into her skin and tickling her muscles, readying for the descent.
Remembering the feeling of excitement gripping her heart like a child getting excited over a new toy. She can practically feel her feet twitching. This time is different though. This time she’s completely alone. There is no safety net and no way back. Maybe if she focuses on the thrill she won’t focus on the reason why she’s there. The sounds are hard to ignore though. Thousands of growls, screams, and footsteps as the hoard draws in. They scream at her. She’s done this so many times before, but she has never felt so lost or scared than in this instance.
Brown hair, an unfortunate shade of burgundy in places, sticks to her head in clumps and hangs, sticky and lifeless on her shoulders. The rope in her hands leaves an imprint. Forming blisters on her palms, she’s holding it so tight. The loud thump in her chest indicates her overexertion and her clothes feel heavy, the weight of her travels. Suddenly she wishes she had more layers on. The comfort of a warm jumper would feel nice against her skin despite her body’s warmth.
The noises are getting louder. Occasionally, there’s the sound of a scuffle as they fight or fall in their haste to get to her. She can’t bear to turn around and see. She knows what death looks like. It’s too familiar for comfort. Toiling with her emotions and her own grasp on reality.
Her name used to be Amelia. Before all of this. Now she’s just flesh, food for the world. There’s not much left of the girl who went seeking for the thrill of excitement. Amelia Sanders, once an adrenaline junky who avoided conflict, a stranger to her family. Who knows what she is anymore. The temptation to jump is more of a whisper in the wind now. The sounds are too loud to focus. They chatter their teeth as they get closer to their meal. She can smell death.
A single tear slides down her cheek and the name ‘Rianne’ escapes her lips as she leans into the wind. Unwilling to enjoy the thrill but very willing to let grief overtake her this time. Gravity pulls her the rest of the way. Guiding her hand.
Closing her tortured eyes, Amelia falls toward the dead world below.
Copyright, Charlie Wright. All rights reserved.