The Ghostwriter's Words

Sammy: There must have been some purpose

He must have had some purpose for climbing the face of that cliff, Sammy thought, beyond risking his life getting to the top. Especially with safer, easier ways to get there. But since he had taken such an adrenaline-inducing, exhausting, foolish risk, he reminded himself, he'd long promised to look down from the edge and tell Eve, Goodbye. So, why not now? How much more frightening could that be than what he'd just accomplished? And he took a few small, tentative steps forward until that all too familiar rush of vertigo forced him to his knees. Other than that instant he'd watched Eve vanish before his eyes, he'd been nearer than ten feet from the edge, even with Sara holding his hand and assuring him she wouldn't allow him to fall. How could she have made that promise?

Sammy knew he could never get back to his feet this near the edge. His only option was to carefully maneuver his feet from beneath him and scoot backward on his behind until he felt safe to roll to his knees and crawl. A sequence he'd repeated many times. He'd always insisted his affliction was not an irrational phobia. It was a realistic sense of self-preservation. The certainty that he would fall to his death if near enough to the edge to see below was one he felt deep in his bones. This time, he determinedly forced himself to inch forward again, attempting to crabwalk toward the edge rather than away. When his left foot found nothing but air, he turned his face to the side for fear of choking on the vomit he felt rising, but nothing remained in his stomach. Instead, he fought to control the dry, empty spasms, each of which he felt push his body nearer to the edge.

Only a little further, he encouraged himself, once his stomach settled. Then what? Sit with his feet hanging over the edge to look down? An electric jolt of panic shot through him, visualizing that as he felt the force of gravity pulling him nearer the edge, even though, from where he stood a moment earlier, the spot where he now laid flat on his back seemed level. From the beach, it appeared to have a slight upward slope. But, with one foot dangling in space, he felt the rock beneath him tipping toward the edge while something grabbed his ankle to drag him over. He spread his arms as he had when he reached the top of his climb only a short time before, the palms of his hands flat against the rock, trying to hold himself in place as the world spun beneath him. He couldn't remember ever feeling more terrified in his life, afraid any effort to pull himself back from the edge would only cause him to slide further forward.

"What the hell am I doing up here?" Sammy asked himself aloud as tears ran down the sides of his face. Then he began to laugh, through his sobs, remembering the chair he'd Magickly willed to appear on the beach earlier.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he yelled toward the sky, lifting one arm to his nose, confirming that his Magick Hat was still in place and hadn't fallen out during his climb, and an invisible force pulled him carefully back from the edge to safety. He rested a moment until some composure returned, his heart rate slowed nearer to normal, and the band around his chest eased enough to draw a full breath.

"Okay, I can do this," he told himself, with the sudden assurance that the Magick holding him would not allow him to fall. Sara had once told him he could fly if he wanted, although he'd never tried. Instead, he decided to roll onto his belly facing forward; then soldier crawled his way back toward the edge. When his right hand felt only air, he felt the same sensation of vertigo, the forward pull of gravity, and the fear he had no way to stop his imminent headlong fall to the rocks below.

Then the comforting pressure on his shoulders from a powerful, invisible pair of hands assured him they held him safely in place. And he willed himself to inch slowly forward, his Magick hands gripping his shoulders with reassurance. Finally, his head extended beyond the edge while his invisible Magick hands held him securely. Still, looking down a thousand feet to the waves crashing against the rocks below, he felt the rush of vertigo set his world spinning with the fear that if he lost concentration, the hands that held him would vanish and release him to the force of gravity. He tightened the grip of those Magick hands again to confirm they were still present, holding him safe. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, deep and slow, to calm himself.