Sunset.1
It was the end of the day and golden pools of light splayed languidly across the ever-churning waters. She seemed an ocean apart, alone, afraid. Like the end of the world was coming. She let her head fall back as she stared at the pink-tinged clouds. She was so tired. Tired of everything. Tired of caring, tired of feeling, tired of being thoughtful. Tired of life.2
"I could end it," she whispered, her quiet voice lost to the cool breeze.3
Salt was on the air. Salt like a great thunderstorm, twisting and turning the icy black waves to a dark, empathetic concavity. Salt that was mingled with her own, that flowed in rivulets down her face from dry rivers. She was tired, and she knew it. Stretched like silly putty in the hands of a petulant three year old.4
She would have cried. Would have cried had it not been seen as a weakness. Would have cried if she had been allowed. But she wasn't. So she didn't. And it was killing her not to. For once she just wanted to scream and yell, to cry and break down without having to worry about the repercussions. Without worrying about what they would see, what they would say when they did find her, teary eyed and scrubbed pink like inconsequential. She just wanted to be free. And yet she wasn't, couldn't be.5
She exhaled loudly, stepping to the edge of the cliff that obscured her view of the rocky outcropping below. She wanted to jump and be over with it. It was so tempting, it would be so easy to just end it all. She could imagine it, jumping over the cliff, the wonderful feel of freeness as she plummeted downward, the silken air that whipped around her caressing her as only a lover had the right to do. She would be like a goddess, untamed, unbridled, feared and revered, free in every concept, and she would love every glorious second of it, would revel in the wonderful excitement, the adrenaline of the fall until the last second when she would come crashing down onto the jagged spikes below. And then it would be over. She would be whole.6
She would be free.7
She laughed bitterly at the thought. There was no such thing as being free. Even in death she would be controlled. Not even martyrdom would save her of such a fate. Alas, that was the fate of being a politician's daughter.8
Another soft breeze passed, drawing the folds of her satin red dress with it, teasing it, coaxing it to ripple around her legs and she sighed. If only. She turned half way, looking back at the house where the mournful sorrow of a cello echoed to her. She could hear them; the clink of champagne flutes against each other and the cheery laughter so unbefitting to the melancholy tune. They were all frivolous, undefined and undignified. There was no sense of reality away from the stocks and races, nothing more envious than the Count's wife and her new dress. Nothing.9
She hated it, and she loved it.10
It was her life.11
She glanced down at the waves as they crashed against the rocks, leaving behind only the white spray of their crest in remembrance and turned away. She would go back to the house, back to the social gathering. Not because she wanted to, not because she was addicted to it or loved it, but because there were other ways to find happiness than suicide. And so she would suffer, quietly and alone, she would suffer. She would suffer through it all. For her mother, for her sister, for a long lost brother and a deteriorating conscience. For long perished grandparents and for her best friend. She would do it all, until she became a quietus figment that perhaps never existed. A lost hope, in search of freedom.12
She snorted.13
Freedom—
—there was no such thing.
Author notes
My fanfiction editor Smog helped me come up with this- she doesn't have an account on this and i wanted to credit her. Smog if you're reading this YOU'RE AMAZING
A contest entry
- Tear Jerker by Bree Birichino 23.
175 points, ended July 13, 2008, 19 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Before I comment, I want to welcome you to Storywrite! From what I've just read, we're gonna be graced with your presence.
Wow. I mean seriously. This was heart wrenching. Sad yet beautiful; bitter yet sweet; with despair at the beginning, a glimmer of hope in the middle, and resignation in the end. I could relate to the girl's feelings, which made me love it all the more. Very talented and beautiful writing. Both you and Smog have an amazing talent!
Only one itsy bit I saw: the third paragraph. I think it's meant to be "Salt was IN the air." Apart from that very teeny mistake, it was wonderful, and rather poetic as well.
Keep writing!
-
Wonderfully written. I can really relate to this...nice imagery, too. Good job.
-
hmm
it didnt make me cry but yet it made me realize the whole freedom thing
i never thought about it like that...
this was a amazing piece i would love to read more of you stuff
goo lukc in the contest and definately keep writing
Adding your comment:
