Though I am an English major, creative writing has not always been my area of expertise. I’m not terrible at it but I struggle to create stories and when I start, I always run out of “juice.” However, every now and then inspiration comes to me. In this case, it came to me in a dream. The dream was about a person from my past. It was so strange and so vivid that I decided I had to write about it.

So, here I am, publicly sharing a creative writing piece of mine for anyone to read for the very first time. Never say never.

A dark, hazy mist twirled through the trees as their dead leaves crunched under my feet. Crickets chirped from their hiding places in the shadows and an owl hooted from its branch high above. Despite my ominous surroundings, I was comfortable, even excited. I had a feeling as though I was on an adventure I had dreamed of for a long time.

Ahead of me, the trees parted, as if they had been waiting for my arrival and designed a path just for me. The clearing was small; a crescent of trees left a small ledge, the earth dropping suddenly beyond. The moon’s light cast a silver sheet over the forest of pine trees below, and the scent of evergreen infused the air, filling my body with ease. It was beautiful.

I stood on the edge of the earth and looked directly down. Under the cliff was a bed of rocks, jagged and unforgiving.

The aged trunks of the trees croaked and groaned as a heavy gust of wind whipped my hair across my face. I turned to the forest as I lifted my hand and tucked my loose hair behind my ear. There, standing between two trees was the familiar shape of your shoulders, your long legs and angled feet.

I stared at you as you tilted your head, and your eyes softened, your lips widened into a toothless smile. This is what I came here for. To see you exactly as I once did.

My feet could not move, so you stepped closer for the both of us. The thrill of you consumed me. Every inch closing between us sent a pulse through my body, leaving my fingers and legs tingling. I was certain that the moment your hands found mine, I would burst. I closed my eyes.

A painful force so icy and sharp struck my shoulders and fear filled my gut. My frozen feet slid from the ledge. As I began to fall, I reached for your arms, but you took a smooth step away from me. My outstretched hands managed to cling to the earth where my feet once stood, but one by one, my fingers neglected all hope and slipped from the ledge.

As I fell, my ears popped from the changing altitude. It had happened so fast that I hadn’t even had time to be angry with you. I was happy, and then I was falling. My limbs flailed around me, wishing I had a hand, your hand, to grasp onto. For months, I fell.

October flashed past me, Thanksgiving and Christmas in tow. The New Year came and went with another lonely Valentine’s day. Easter dinner, my mother’s birthday…

While the Wind whipped past me, she told me stories of you that turned my love to pain, my pain to grief, my grief to resentment, my resentment to a fierce rage.

I’d been falling for so long and was so caught up in my thoughts that I had forgotten my surroundings. It almost felt as though my feet were planted solidly back on the ground. As though, if I were to open my eyes, I would still be on the ledge with you.

I forced my eyelids open against the Wind and her whispers were no longer in my ears. Once again, I stood with my back to the crescent of trees, the forest stretched below the cliff. The moon’s silvery blanket no longer covered the pines. The sleepy sun was just waking up, stretching her rays over the earth. Her golden glow warmed my skin as I looked down to the unforgiving rocks below.

There you were. A mangled mess.