Skip to main content

The final grip

https://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/daniel-jensen-354568-unsplash.jpg


He tried to push me off the edge of the cliff, that's what he tried to do..... I am trying the grip it tightly, holding the boundary of the face of the rock face. The gravel from the cliff face, small pieces but sharp scrape by like daggers hitting the side of my face. I can feel the grass ahead of me which is mould and worn as my hands dig into it as I try to surface the face of the precipice.

I hang like a bat as I can hear the water beneath me slashing away as I clutch onto dear life, as my head spins looking at the sheer drop below me. I catch onto the grass but it tears beneath my hands like hairs as I am desperate to survive.

I had no idea that it was coming, he took me to the beach, it was a beautiful summer days and we were walking along hand by hand. The clouds above were darkening as the sky changed colour beyond as he walked to the edge of the cliff then simply pushed me over. I was startled as I hurtled but managed to grab onto one of branches that was on the side of the steep rock, as I could hear him scuttle away from the end.

He had been working late, always emails, employed for long periods of time. He had been away at several weekends, but I didn't tweak or think that anything was different. Was it another woman, was that it I thought as I hang there ...BASTARD I shouted as I held onto the end. My voice echoes around me without anyone to hear me as I slowly crawl along the cliff face.

I feel like a commando, I am not fit or have any upper body weight, but somehow I have the strength, will power to go forward for the cliff towards the flat surface. I slowly move forward whilst shifting my body towards the flat ground, whilst the sweat drips off my clothes and face. It takes all my efforts, breathe, to finally pull myself flat. I am on solid ground. I kiss the earth which is moist, wet but for me is everything as I lie breathing heavily.

As I lay there breathing, I vow for revenge, I vow to face him, haunt him I will make him believe that I am dead, that he succeeded. But I will make his life a misery in the shadows and this woman of his, how dare he I scream into the land beneath me. I will get my revenge as I lay in the grass breathing into in planning what I will do....



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dexter Pearson

  As a child, I loved to eat Mars bar eagley: having small bites and using both fingers to shove the little crumbs of chocolate in my profusely watering mouth. I grew fat because of this, ‘Little chubby Dexter’ I was called whilst growing up in Dagenham. I was always picked on and my mother used to try to calm me down by saying ‘Dear Dexter’. I would get bad grades in class, I am sure you can relate to the bullying readers, I sometimes would lose concentration in the class like a bull losing its horns from his head due to the name calling ‘fatty’, ‘chubby’ or ‘roly poly’. But I am Dexter I wanted to say Dexter Pearson, but I didn’t have the guts to stick up for myself at that time, nor today for that matter.    I did try to lose the weight, I joined the Essex group ‘little runners’ who ran through Barking Park as I was around eight at that time, but I looked like a ball bouncing up and down the park lanes and the children would laugh at me as I used to dru...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Evil Step Mother’s Point of View - Cinderella

 ‘I hate you, you old bag’ she screamed as she threw the bowl across the room. I had made her favourite dish soup, which I had spent ages cooking in the kitchen. Her father had told me that it was going to be hard to be accepted as her new mother, but this was much harder than I had imaged. ‘Mum we have tried, I offered to give her my new dress’ said Gemma. ‘I said that I would take her to the ball with us’ said Louisa. ‘What can we do? She calls us UGLY sisters, it’s so cruel cried Pamela.    I hugged my three daughters closely, I wanted Cinderalla to accept us as we had with her. But she hated us, calling me a ‘wicked stepmother’ and slamming doors. She would cry and portray us as ogres. With the arrival of the Prince inviting us to go to the ball, I even tried to invite her but she was spoilt and rude. ‘I don’t want to go, you old bag, GET LOST’ she shouted. ‘I will get there myself’ she stormed off as usual to her room. ‘I miss my mum, you marrie...
Post a Comment
Read more

Miranda

OUT NOW Dione the new virtual reality system. The huge billboard poster flickered with the only advert holographic projection . The streets were dark, but the advert illuminated like a candle making it the centre of attraction as though it was the essence of existence, but for the majority it had become. ‘Wow that looks amazing, I have to get it, it’s better than the Miranda system which came out last year’. Said my brother walking with me down the street, drawn to it like a mosquito to the light. He was addicted about getting a new headset every year. He was actually putting the Miranda system on as we spoke, going to the Prehistoric age, immersing himself in another world. Everyone was wearing one, but I didn’t.   This was my world, the future, a world of virtual reality. Headsets in every home, laying on the coffee table instead of books which were no longer existing. No one read anymore. They were a way of escaping the actual reality ...
Post a Comment
Read more