The Ghostwriter's Words

Sammy: Not His Usual Path

Sammy stood at the base of the promontory that jutted out into the ocean, forming a barrier at the southern end of his beach. Looking up, the face of the cliff appeared to be perfectly vertical from that perspective. His usual route took him back the path past the waterfall - where he'd discovered Sara emerging naked from the water so many years ago. Then a pair of long gentle sloping trails switched back from there to the top. Instead, he impulsively decided to climb a nearly invisible path directly to the top that was no more than a series of narrow ledges and handholds carved into the rock. He wasn't sure whether they had been the work of wind, rain, and time. Or some earlier inhabitants, who'd needed a more direct way to the top, or down from it, as he recalled from the story of the Mammoth hunt in The Word of God, part of another birthday celebration if he recalled the story correctly.

Sara had originally pointed out the path if it could rightly be called that. Sammy would never have spotted it, principally because his mind didn't instinctively look for routes to climb the face of nearly vertical rock walls. He looked for ways to avoid such foolishness, which he always had before her insistence that he try. He'd only agreed after a century of prodding, encouragement, and Sara's promise of a very special reward once they'd reached the top. She'd flashed him a breast and smiled her wicked smile. Of course, once she was confident enough with Magick to provide herself a reliable safety net, she immediately free-climbed the face of the cliff barefoot and naked. This would be his first attempt to climb without ropes, a harness, or Sara's encouragement, assistance, and promises of rewards. Or her flashing him a smile and a breast.

On those few earlier climbs, fully clothed, harnessed, and roped, Sara had continually reminded him not to look down, which he'd invariably felt compelled to do anyway, then instantly regretted. He'd stand paralyzed, trying to trust Sara that the ropes and harness would keep him from falling. Focus on her eyes, she'd insisted until the waves of vertigo subsided, and she could encourage him upward another step toward the top again. When nothing else worked, she reminded him, he had no choice but to continue climbing, or remain where he was until he died of dehydration or a heart attack, then become a mummified legend for future climbers and an impediment for them to navigate around.

A descent without ropes would be impossible for anyone other than the most seasoned climbers. Sara, for example, was up and down bareass naked, then horny as hell. Or those earlier inhabitants, who would have been familiar as Sara with the hand and footholds they may have created themselves. Sara, of course, had the advantage of several centuries of practice to hone her skills. And Magick.

Sammy had been exhausted when he reached the top that first time. Perhaps more from the effects of fear and adrenaline incessantly pumping through his heart than the physical effort. Although even without his issues with heights, the climb was physically demanding. Even fit as he'd always been since his returned youth, thanks to his continual walking and running, he'd been in no condition, physically or emotionally, to claim Sara's reward at the top.

He wasn't sure what possessed him to try alone now, without safety equipment. But he'd had enough to drink to be bold and stupid, with a cloud of swirling memories and emotions he hadn't yet categorized filling his head. Among which was the question: What would it matter if he fell, so long as it was from high enough to finish the job? This was followed by whether there might be an afterlife where he'd rejoin Eve. And where was Sara when he needed her so badly?

It was his birthday, and no one was there to share the celebration of what should be a momentous day. It was clear no one else cared. Sara didn't, or she'd have been there when he woke that morning. But then, neither had Eve cared enough not to step off the edge of the cliff above rather than face forever with him. She should have been there for his one-thousandth birthday, and he for hers only a few months later. Such future experiences were the entire point. Otherwise, they could have retired in their thirties and spent the rest of their lives playing naked-hide-and-seek any place on the planet they wanted. But then, he wouldn't still be there to debate whether he had the will to endure his continued existence.