My eyes opened, suddenly, pulling me from my sleep in an instant. I looked around my room, wondering what had woken me up, but all was still. The moment I closed my eyes again, a sound came. Click! A pebble hit my window. I sat up, wide awake now, and looked at my alarm clock: 1:00 a.m. . Blinking away the last remnants of sleep, I stood and walked to the window. It’s Probably a serial killer waiting to kill me victorian-style. I mean, who throws pebbles at a window to get someone’s attention this century besides a cereal killer? The thoughts popped into my mind without warning, making me hesitate. I pushed the notion away, but was still cautious as I pushed the curtain aside.
“Chains!” Came a whisperer-yell.
Immediately I recognized the voice and pushed the window open, letting the cool night air of late summer into my bedroom.
“Ashla?” I whisper-yelled back. That explained the pebble-throwing. She had thrown her phone into a river a few weeks ago. Classic Ashla. You get used to it being friends with her for a few years.
The figure standing on the fence below my window was tall and slightly built, with a mane of hair sticking out at wild angles from a black hoodie. She looked up and smiled at me, her different colored eyes sparkling in the moonlight. She waved at me. I sighed. One in the morning, the tired part of my mind complained. But I had learned long ago that arguing was useless. When Ashla set her mind to it, it would happen.
I changed into black cargo pants and slipped my old checkered Vans on, staying in the hoodie I slept in, and stood at the window.
“Hurry up!” she called from below.
I grabbed onto the tree by my window and climbed down as I had hundreds of times before. I stepped onto the fence next to Ashla, and we jumped down together, landing on the sidewalk outside my yard.
“What's happening?” I asked, and undertone of concern in my voice. Ashla turned to regard me.
“What? I can't come over in the wee hours of the morning and ask you to sneak out of your bedroom window?” She began walking down the street, tossing her hoodie back so her white hair bounced lightly as she moved. I ran after her.
“Can I know where we're going?” I asked, smiling despite myself.
“The Granite Cliffs.” She answered.
I stopped in my tracks. she turned to me, noticing my hesitation.
“Now?” I asked.
“I can't think of a better time.” She nodded.
“Why?”
“You'll see.” She turned and resumed walking towards the cliffs. After a moment, I followed.
We traveled down the street in silence, until Ashla started laughing.
“What?” I asked.
“The way you look at cars. like you're calculating how long it would take to steal them.” She said it was good humor, no judgment in her voice. She’d been around for the dark times of my life, and had stayed with me through them. I love her for that.
“Old habits die hard.” I replied.
She raised one perfect eyebrow. I caught her eyes, one brown, the other somewhere between blue and green. Ashla was quite a person. She had Vitiligo, and was not at all self-conscious about it. She often let me trace the lines between dark and light brown and skin on her arms and face. She often wore crop tops, Saying that she “wouldn't dress like a nun just because I look like a Jackson Pollock”. She was tall, almost 6’3”, and her wild, naturally white hair stuck out in curls, making her look even taller. But besides her looks, her personality got your attention and held it. She didn't take crap from anyone, and if you gave her the time, she'd tell you the secrets of the universe.
We rounded the corner, the cliffs coming into view, and once again my stomach clenched.
“Let's go back, Ashla.” I blurted, “I don't want to go.”
She turned to regard me, her eyes set in a determined expression.
“It's been a year since the accident, Charles. Exactly. You and I both know you need to look this fear in the eyes and tell it you aren't going to let it control you anymore.”
“I can't.”
“Do you want to?” She asked. Somehow she always managed to make you question what you thought you knew. It's an endearing quality.
“Yes,” I replied at length, “but I can't.” I repeated.
She sighed. “Don't make me do it-” She said softly.
“Do what?”
Now she was smiling, pushing up her hoodie sleeves, the pale parts of her skin contrasting starkly with the black cloth in the moonlight.
“You're going to make me do it!” She laughed.
“Ash-” I objected, trying not to smile.
She Reached down and picked me up as if I were a child, as if I weighed nothing at all. Her muscle didn't show- how could she be so strong? She slung me over her shoulders, wounded-warrior style, and resumed walking.
“Put me down-” I complained, but there was no energy behind the words. We were both laughing now.
When I looked up, we were right on the cliffs. Splayed out below us was a forested valley, and I could make out the pine trees and saplings, lakes and rugged rock formations, even in the low light.
“Don't run.” Ashla said, somehow knowing I was feeling the urge to book it in the opposite direction.
“I won't. I promise.” I rolled off her shoulders, though I kept one hand on her arm, steadying myself. The breeze echoed in my ears as I took a deep breath, willing my eyes open.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?” Ashla whispered.
My eyebrows came together as I studied the valley. I'd never considered it beautiful before.
“Yes. I guess it is.” I admitted.
We stood there until my breathing studied and my heart rate slowed to a normal pace.
“Thank you.” I whispered.
“You are brave, Chains.” She whispered back.
As I looked out over the heavens above me and the still land below me, I believed her.
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8 comments
Hi Raye, From the comments you sound pretty cocky--but, perhaps you have reason to be. This is excellent writing and the main characters are fabulous. I love the visual image of Ashla, large, strong, multi-colored, irreverent of time, dismissive of rules, (Not necessarily authority). Doting over this smaller, traumatized, but larcenous Charles, who goes by the name of 'Chains.' You have utilized every... This is a very short story. And you have created in very few words a... You have created, with very few words, great depth in your chara...
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This story has a lot of heart and even more potential, I really enjoyed it. I'd have loved a few more hints as to why Chains fear the cliffs, and I hope to see this story progress in the future. Its definitely piqued my interest! "I mean, who throws pebbles at a window to get someone’s attention this century besides a cereal killer?" I had to chuckle here, I would definitely agree. I must ask, was 'cereal' a typo here? All in all it was a good read.
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'Cereal' phft, that must have been auto correct lol- I should have proof-read it better. Thanks for pointing that out. Yes, I do know the difference between 'serial' and 'cereal'. I sort of left out why Chains was afraid of the cliffs on purpose- in my mind, the reason for the fear doesn't matter as much as the fact that it was overcome with the help of a friend. I didn't want the reasons to overcome to moral of the story- though now, in hindsight, it may have actually strengthened it. I don't know, that's just my perspective.
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The dialogue is good and Ashla is great character.
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She's one of my OC's that has a lot of lore- I'm hoping to do more stories with her as a character. Thank you, Graham Kinross.
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Keep them coming.
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Intriguing story. I wanted to know more about the source of or reason for the fear. Also, watch out for those typos, not just 'cereal' but 'and undertone'.
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To be 100% honest, my heart wasn't in this story as much as I would like it to be. My passion is fantasy whiting, and I find myself not as committed to anything else I try to write. I think that's why this story isn't as great as most of my stuff. Bad first impression, I guess. But what are writing exercises for if not to help us find our style?
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