At The Edge Of The Cliff | Short Story by Omemu Moyo Esther
today marked the fourth anniversary and though that long time had
passed, the pain hadn’t. It was a very agonizing struggle to wake up
this morning and live the day. On many occasions she had fought the urge
to go back under her white covers and sleep till the next day so it
would all roll over without her noticing but life didn’t work that way
and according to her therapist she had to face it heads on to get
better. No matter how hard she tried to avoid it and push it aside, it
would still come back so why bother. She continued trailing the path of
the familiar road she had come to love and hate as well. The place was a
hallmark of great memories, one that made her smile and cry, and to be
honest, she had cried more. Inhaling the cool breeze, she sucked in her
tears and tried to focus on the good memories of this place and really
tried to act as happy as he would have wanted her to be…note, the
objective word being tried because in the end she fell on her knees and
just wept, crying for everything.
broken blocks that sat on the abandoned construction site. The one thing
that used to serve as a getaway for both of them when reality got too
harsh. She remembered how they would both come here and sit atop the
rock, wishing for a life of their fantasies. They would make up things
they knew may never come to pass, like the one time she wished they for
24/7 electricity. Sitting there was purgatory for them, a means to
forget reality.
never been a bed of roses and unlike many of her peers, she didn’t have
the luxury to believe in picture perfect family with a house of gold.
She was used to the intricacies of life and had suffered through dark
side of life numerous times yet none of those experiences could have
prepared her enough for her loss.
still under her duvet having a nightmare. Life should have given her
more time so at least she could ease slowly into this painful reality.
never leave but no, nothing good lasts forever. No one in her life
stayed, not even the ones she had dared to call family yet she basked in
the delusion that maybe this one was different. Life created an
illusion that her happiness was here to stay.
the lead. Just when she thought it was for real, she was greeted one
afternoon by sad looking officers with a familiar wallet and a ring.
she was just insecure but every time she picked up the phone and called
the bald head man who had taken him, the story was the same and his
words too…Sarah, move on with your life.
to accept his death and move, there had to be a mistake. Four years
later, there was no mistake…he was gone!
of a cliff, faced between a massive pool of water and dry land, how had
she walked that far?
life was behind her in a distance. She stopped to think about it, what
was there, was anything there waiting for her?
reminder of all she had lost and the other, a break from her sorrows.
returning to her sad and lonely life, where waking up was like salt on
opened wounds…a life where he no longer was part of and the other
world…freedom, what would a sane person choose?
He is dead and gone Sarah, you have to stop calling. A mix of pain and
anger bubbled up within her. She looked at the phone one last time
before flinging it.
ardent fan of psychology. Humans beings are the most interesting things
on earth yet the most disturbing and that’s the beauty of writing a book
for me. The feeling i get as i try to figuring out the mind of my
characters and divide me into varied personalities to tell their story
better is a feeling like no other