I smile to myself as I breathe in the heady air of summer. Flowers are blossoming around the verges as I jog along the pathway, filling the dusky light with their bright colours. My evening jog is usually cold and windy, but today it seems to be calming down at last.
My breathing is coming hard and my lungs are hurting, so I slow my pace down to a walk and breathe deeply. A grasshopper chirps in the long grass by the side of the path. I feel a small breeze against my cheeks and tilt my head to the sun that's low on the horizon. The sound of the sea is calming, like some huge giant asleep down in a cave by the cliff. I smile at that image as I begin the walk home across the cliff path. The sun's setting now, and the wind's growing stronger. I begin to walk a little faster, the eerie calls of the gulls and kittiwakes urging me on.
Breathe deeply, I tell myself firmly. There's nothing out there but the wind and seagulls. My fists clench automatically and I jump at every movement. Nothing there, Casi. Only a few minutes till you're home.
The wind picks up, howling through the caves below, whipping the sea into huge waves that crash and thunder against the cliffs angrily. The giant has been awoken. My pace quickens.
A gust of wind catches me off guard and I'm thrown off balance, wobbling precariously on one foot. I gain balance again and rush off, avoiding the edge of the cliff, constantly watching for something that will cause me to overbalance again.
My reddish hair snaps against my neck, stinging me like some kind of wasp has landed there. I rub the area , trying not to concentrate on how close I am to the edge of the cliff. The cliff that has claimed the lives of many before.
They call this area Hope's Leap, because people used to come and jump off the cliff and into the sea. It was a leap of faith, trusting that you wouldn't get carried into the deadly sharp rocks, and many a man was killed. The tradition faded out a few hundred years ago, but you'll still get a few adrenaline-junkies who do it for fun. Some do it to die.
I remember that the path takes a sudden right, following the cliff into a cove filled with jagged rocks not dissimilar to knives. I shudder, looking down at my feet. It's almost dark now, and I can't see the cliffs. A sea-mist has rolled in without me noticing.
How could I not notice?! I yell at myself. Now you're going to fall off the cliff - my thoughts are cut off when I realise that I'm standing on soft mossy ground - not the rough stones of the path. The area under my feet is overhanging, I know this. Why didn't I concentrate more? Dad always told me to notice things, now this is going to get me killed.
The wind whistles up through the cove beneath me, and I feel the cold spray of a wave as it crashes against the cliff. The wind catches me off-balance again and I fall forward, a cry ripping from my lips as I tumble forward...and forward and forward until I realise that there's no ground beneath me and I'm over the edge of the cliff -
I scream as I flail my limbs, waiting for the inevitable impact. I have less than a minute. I can't hear anything, the wind in my ears is too loud - but somehow I hear a shout, as clear as day.
No! someone yells, and my eyes slip shut. Casiphea, you must not die! I brace myself for the impact, a tear falling from my eye and being ripped away by the wind -
I'm sorry, I think, and everything goes dark.