The sun slinks beneath the horizon, albeit languidly.
The wind coasts by,
carrying with it the whispered secrets and twilight trysts of this heartening season.
Below and as far as the eye can see:
the ocean.
Waves brush up against the jagged rocks bordering the grey stone turret,
and immediately surge away bashfully to the open water.
Raw, undisturbed beauty.
I stand near the window at the top of the turret,
watching the autumn day descend into its slumber,
paving the way for an equally enticing autumn night.
I look to the waves.
They seem harsher today,
bolder.
Tonight is a full moon.
I laugh at the simplicity of it all.
I am drawn to these powerful waves,
yet they are drawn to the humble moon.
I've always loved this turret.
The window is not so much a window as it is a gaping aperture in the wall.
It reaches a yard above my head and below my hands.
I often come here to watch the setting sun ripple orange light across the ocean.
Beau has always hated this turret.
Or rather, this window.
He believes it to be much too dangerous.
But he has never made to board it up,
for he knows how much I love it,
and he loves me.
Beau had caught me sitting on the ledge of the window once,
captivated by the view.
But he had not shared my sentiments.
No.
Beau had been livid.
He'd hauled me back to the center of the turret,
and made me swear to never step foot onto the ledge again.
I swore to him,
if only for his peace of mind.
My gaze is drawn to the waves again.
They shimmer under the light of the setting sun.
Simply –
"Beautiful.", a voice breathes.
I whirl around quickly,
but there is no one.
Perhaps I need to lie down.
"I am very much real."
That voice again.
Haunting,
yet intriguing.
I demand that it show its face.
"My face matters not." the voice declares.
"Turn back, child.
To the ocean.
See its beauty,
is it not beautiful?"
A feather-light touch brushes across my collarbone,
so light I believe I've imagined it.
But I do not dwell on it.
The ocean.
I must look back to the ocean.
"Yes.", I whisper.
My own voice sounds otherworldly.
"The ocean truly is beautiful.
So much so that...
that I would happily drown in it."
"Is that so?
Do you wish to meet the ocean, child?
Do you wish to be closer?"
"Closer?", I ask.
"Closer.", the voice affirms.
"Closer.", I repeat with conviction.
"Then you need only to step up, child", the voice clarifies soothingly.
"Step up onto the ledge.
Then you will be closer to the ocean.
Is that not what you want?"
The ledge?
A strange kind of electricity ignites my body,
from the top of my head to the tips of my fingers.
Almost as if it were a warning.
There is something about this ledge,
something forbidden.
But for the life of me,
I cannot comprehend what it might be.
The voice senses my hesitance.
Another feather-light touch brushes against my body,
this time travelling up the length of my spine.
The ledge.
I must step onto the ledge.
I must be closer to the ocean.
But...
"What is it now, child?", the voice asks.
I sense a note of exasperation,
but I shrug it off.
My mind feels much too weighted to dissect the voice's tone.
I must be simply overthinking it.
The voice is kind after all.
"What if I fall?", I ask.
An inkling of fear blooms in my chest.
"I will not let you fall.", the voice assures.
"Promise?", I ask.
"Promise."
The fear is replaced by a magnetic lure.
I believe it to be the ocean.
The ocean is calling to me.
Drawing me into it.
I close my eyes.
I can feel its call weaving with my heartbeat.
Entwining with the very essence of who I am.
It placates me,
blanketing me in peace.
The ocean.
My ocean.
I must go to it.
Closer.
My eyes flutter open.
I am standing on the ledge,
Hands braced rigidly along the sides of the window,
the wind whipping my hair wildly around my head.
A crown of thorns.
Did I climb up here myself?
I look down.
The water churns,
Roiling with power,
yet somehow exuding elegance.
Beautiful.
"That's right, it is beautiful when you are close.
Do you wish to be even closer, child?"
Even closer?
Could it be possible?
The voice speaks up knowingly.
"Of course.
Have I led you astray before, child?"
I shake my head.
"Do you trust me, child?"
I nod slowly.
"Then jump."
For a moment,
the breath is stolen from my lungs,
and it refuses to answer my pleas for its return.
"Jump?", I whisper.
"Jump.", the voice whispers back.
"It is the only way.
Do you not see?
Do you not understand?", it coos.
The blanket of peace descends lower over my body.
I do see.
I do understand.
I will –
A disturbance in the illusion.
A sound.
A second voice?
I turn to the doorway of the turret.
A man stands within the frame,
a look of abject horror on his face.
He approaches me slowly,
and I feel instantly threatened.
Does he mean to take me from my ocean?
The man begins to speak,
but I process only part of his words.
He repeatedly calls a name,
but there is no one by that name here.
I wonder who she is.
I watch him,
my confusion laid bare.
His face contorts in anguish,
And he looks at me almost...
pleadingly?
I am suddenly pained that I caused him this despair.
My heart twists.
I'll give him what he wants I decide.
Ocean be damned.
But what is it that he wants?
I push on the fog blanketing my mind.
I want to hear what the man speaks.
What formerly felt like peace,
now feels like prison.
The fog pushes back.
He reaches a hand toward me,
and I feel the illusion dispel further.
I can hear him clearly now.
"Come back to me, my love.", he says.
The picture of desperation.
His love?
I wonder...
but my mind is still a mess.
My heart,
beating previously for the ocean,
suddenly beats for him.
It is all the answer I need.
I move to grasp his hand.
The voice halts me.
"What are you doing, child?", it implores.
I want to explain,
but the voice gives me no chance.
I feel a warmth engulf me.
As if a hundred feather-light touches melded into one.
My thoughts scramble from me,
try as I might to hold onto them.
Soon, my mind is once again blank.
The blanket descends over me.
"The ocean, child.", the voice directs me.
"Look to its beauty.
Look to its power.
Answer its call."
I turn once more to face the ocean.
I can sense the man behind me.
I can sense him calling out her name again.
But the fog has become impenetrable.
It goads me not to listen.
"Jump, child.
It is the only way.
Remember?"
I close my eyes.
I remember.
Teetering on the edge,
both physically and metaphorically.
Which way, which way?
This way, that way?
"Jump."
And suddenly,
The wind is whistling past me.
The water rushes up to greet me.
churning.
Impatient.
Greedy.
Yet still beautiful.
Had I truly jumped?
I hear the man scream her name again.
Wait.
Not her name.
My name.
How had I forgotten my own name?
How –
The voice whispers past me again,
laughing openly at my folly.
A laugh full of malice.
Of scorn.
Of death itself.
Not a trace of its former kindness.
"I promised I wouldn't let you fall,
but I didn't promise I wouldn't let you jump.",
it sings spitefully.
Betrayal.
It laughs again.
The sound of ruination.
"Sweet dreams,
mortal fool.
There will be no saviour for you today."
The water reaches its arms for me,
readying to envelop me in its deathly beautiful embrace.
Mortal fool indeed.