Muse.
There were a thousand ideas flowing through her mind but she couldn't write a word, they were all too complex, required too much for her to ever do it justice. Frantically combing the far reaches of her mind, words and sentences coming like fragments, each piece different and unique, none of it was enough; she was left faced by the white expanse, never ending. It was just a white page, her pen ready to carve inky flowing letters but no matter how innocent its appearances. She couldn't break the ever looming white, no words would come, not a sign or a whisper, not a spec of consistent thought to fill a page, to fulfill what she needed. Usually in sleep her thoughts would gather and dreams would appear telling a story that would upon waking spill into the page like paint soaking into a canvas. Nothing came, her blonde hair would fall in her face as she tossed and turned, hazel eyes seeking the darkness of the heavens around her for anything, anything that would be worth breaking the stillness of white.
As time lingered, her frustration grew unbearable until He came. She was absorbed by nothing but him, and so it was he that she wrote of. Elliot, his name the first word on the page and it was like cracking a glacier releasing her soul. She wrote of her dreams, having his strong arms embrace her and feeling his soft lips against hers. The words spilling across the page all for him. Every inch of her heart. But soon she grew to madness, he was her best friend and she could never attain him. He would only ever see her as 'one of the boys', he'd said as much time and again. But she couldn't stop her want of him and so she poured it all onto the page where it could be safe, hidden and she could relieve her heart. Time wore on, relief became harder and harder. Until...
Falling, she was falling. She could feel it inside her. He made her feel the sudden rush, stomach jumping to her throat as each wave of nausea hit her. Elliot terrified her most of all. The thought of him knowing, the rejection scared her more than anything and was what killed her inside. His scent reached her, crisp and sharp it overwhelmed her. She could feel him near, his breath a soft warmth caressing her neck. But she couldn't enjoy it for fear of him reading her heart on that cursed page. So she felt herself falling, the madness of him spreading within her. She didn't know why but she found herself on the edge. The cliff wasn't far from her home. She remembered writing, as she always was. It was about falling, she tried to put on the page what it felt to fall and suddenly she knew she didn't have anything to compare it too. Then she was here, at the cliff. A fierce vertical drop that makes every mother cautious with her children. It was notorious for is chilling ice blue currents and the Grey daggers spearing through the water reaching up to sharp points to catch you in a deadly embrace should you fall. In her right mind she might not have come at all. But her right mind had left her encompassed by thoughts of him and her own despair, he overwhelmed her and the moments that made up her life away from him were lost on her. When she fell it was a wakeup call, everything was clear again but it was too late. The water rushing up to meet her, the peaks of rock approaching her faster and faster until...nothing.
She saw everything from behind a dark, ominous veil she couldn't escape. At first she wasn't aware, but even in life she was hardly aware. Calling out to others came to no effect and her hands couldn't grasp a thing. But she could see the days unfold before her as loved ones unpacked her life. She was stuck here, unable to move on, her soul clinging to the scrap of white paper, black ink scrawled across it, her words like a black skeleton imbedded in the white void. Those words were her whole heart and they tied her here. It wasn't finished, her masterpiece cut off, dropped at the edge of a cliff, just as she was. She would cry from the despair if she could. She could remember it, how it felt, fat wet droplets that could build up in the eyes and pour over. Wet trails tickling her cheeks in their descent. Lifting her hand she tried to feel her cheek almost as if she were crying. But nothing was there. Nothing would ever be there again. That made her the saddest of all. She was adrift, unable to escape her fate, staring down at that cursed page. A lost heartache she couldn't avoid and that she would never reach the end.
As a wraith she watched it all go by, boxes around her room. Her life slowly diminishing to a few scattered items. People, friends, family standing there crying. Idly she wondered if he cried, if he missed her. Almost as if the thoughts summoned him, he was there. He wasn't crying, he seemed to be as lost and listless as she was. But his eyes were red and his face etched with pain. His eyes wandered the room like he might see her sitting on her bed, pen to paper writing furiously as always. But he could not see her and she could not write. He sat at her desk and still lying there, the last words of his best friend, Ella. His face shone, he had found something so sacred, the last words he would ever know, her last words.
She screamed voice shattering the silence like the howling wind that burst through the room stirring everything with a fierce shove. Ella's pain personified in that wind as her eyes widened with fear. Fear of what he might do and the frustration of being unable to stop it. She watched him. Paralysed and useless as he read every word, tears falling freely from his face as he began to realise. She was horrified but her hazel eyes were glued to his face, her ears strained to hear even the smallest sounds of his response. None was uttered, he didn't say a word, didn't respond at all but for the shocked expression on his face. Her heart fell and finally she looked away, disgusted with herself for the hope that filled her. She was dead for goodness sake! But he moved, picking up her pen he filled the ends of that page with his lazy scrawl. He wrote for a long time. When he was finished he kissed the page looked to the heavens and left. Going to the page she dared a peak and the final line screamed at her from its place amongst the white. I always loved you. Over and over she read her final piece. Finished at last, she now knew. And it filled her with a serene sadness she could hardly bear. The man who she loved dearly all her life, and even into death, had loved her too but she could still never reach him. But she knew, he was her greatest inspiration. He was in every letter and every page of her life and he loved her. For now that was enough. She felt a great release around her. Over and over she whispered, "it's enough" as she left her white page and went where no living being will ever know.
The End.
