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Precipice

September 29, 2010

For A Friend

She stood at the edge of the precipice, swaying slightly, intentionally.  Of course, she was afraid, but in a way that bore a certain comfort.

As she leaned forward, cool air from below seemed to blossom into a thin, pale flower that brushed her cheek.

It grew further still, rising up to greet her whole face and neck.  In full bloom, she knew it would be a passionate wind, strong enough to pull her towards it or push her away as it pleased.

As it was, though, if she leaned back, the evidence of a wind would be reduced to a mere whistling through the crevices of the canyon below.

After some time, she thought that this sensation must be similar to that of flying and that perhaps it was flying, of a sort.

She frowned then, imagining what other would say to such a claim.  She cast her mind through various friends and family members; there were those who would scorn the idea, those who would laugh and even some that would scold her for thinking it.

But now she banished these thoughts.  For such thoughts of others and such thoughts of doubt were exiled from her new self.  She was new; after all, she had flown.

___

This turned out to be one of a pair. The companion piece lives here: Flown

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Diva permalink
    September 29, 2010 6:06 pm

    Hey Darce. This was a surprise! i’ve never read anything of yours like that before. It was beautiful, amazing description. x

    • September 30, 2010 4:47 pm

      Hi there, glad you liked it. Thanks for commenting and such a nice comment too! Stop by again!

      Ps. For more you can visit the Writing section of the blog (extreme right of the menu on top).

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