Where The Sea Might Take Me

The woman stood on the edge of the cliff.

 

The coastal breeze tangled her hair and pulled at her dress. 

 

She didn’t move. Her eyes followed the waves, distant and ceaseless, her face unreadable. 

 

What was she thinking? What would she do?

 

Minutes passed. 

 

Her gaze dropped to the rocks below—jagged and slick—where the water churned like a foaming mouth. Rabid. Hungry. It would take her in a moment, no questions asked. 

 

All she had to do was step forward.

 

Would she leap? Would she fall?

 

Or—a fleeting thought—would she fly instead?

 

She imagined herself stepping into the air and rising into the ash-smeared sky, joining the few gulls that wheeled overhead. 

 

Coastal birds, pale against the clouds. 

 

She could be one of them, maybe. 

 

But what if the skies never changed? 

 

What if she was trapped there, in grey forever?

 

 

~~

 

 

Something glinted then—far off, just past the horizon. 

 

A spark of light, cutting through the haze. 

 

Sunlight? A mirror? Or something else?

 

A speck. Floating. Moving, slowly.

 

She leaned forward, her toes curling over the sharp edge, skin scratched and stinging. 

 

The object drew closer. It shimmered faintly, like gold over water. 

 

A ship. Or was it a small boat?

 

She couldn’t tell.

 

Perhaps it was here for her. 

 

Perhaps someone aboard would save her. 

 

Or carry her away. 

 

But what if she jumped? Would they find her? Would she float? Would she sink like a stone and drift, silent, where not even sea creatures wandered?

 

Would she decay there like a bloated thing, untouched, unseen?

 

Or would they reach her in time, pull her from the depths, press their mouth to hers and return the breath she’d given up? Would she cough seawater onto the deck and whisper thank you through salt-cracked lips?

 

Would they even hear her?

No one ever seemed to. Her voice was soft. Feather-soft. Like the down scattered along the shore. 

 

She loved the shore—how the sand swallowed her feet whole. Cool, fine, alive.

 

But the cliff bit deeper. Cut her skin. Burned.

 

Maybe the edge wasn’t the way.

 

She could climb down. Run toward the water, meet the ship from below, let the waves carry her out. But maybe they’d shove her back to shore, again and again.

 

She stood so long, she started to feel like a joke. Like a shadow of the girl she’d once been. Brave, they’d called her. The girl who left her quiet cottage to cross an ocean and study in a foreign land. Who believed in beginnings.

 

But time dulls. Her eyes weren’t as bright now. Her shoulders slumped.

 

Was this cowardice? Or courage?

 

 

~~

 

 

The ship turned, slow and deliberate, slipping toward the cliffs. Toward something she couldn’t see.

 

Urgency surged through her. She couldn’t let it vanish.

 

She lifted her dress and ran. Barefoot through grass, down the slope, away from the edge. Her heels slid in the dirt. The grass tore beneath her. She leapt the final drop into the sand and kept running, toward the opening where the cliffs met—an arch, a cavern. The ship disappeared inside it.

 

It was enormous. Much larger than it had seemed even at a distance. 

 

Was anyone aboard?

 

She crept behind the rocks, heart pounding.

 

Then—voices. Low. Indistinct. Someone emerged.

 

A man.

 

Tall. Broad-shouldered. He wore a deep blue coat lined with gold thread. A captain, perhaps.

 

He was beautiful. Terrible in the way the sea was beautiful—something too large to hold.

 

She moved carefully, staying hidden, but something inside her—wild and trembling—urged her forward.

 

Then he said, “You there.”

 

His voice echoed like honey through the cavern. Rich. Resonant.

 

She froze.

 

He added, gently, “We saw you come in.”

 

We?

 

She swallowed hard. Her heart beat like a drum in her chest.

He was coiling rope in practiced movements, not even looking at her. But he knew she was there.

 

“There’s no point in hiding,” he said with a wry smile.

 

She stepped out. Her voice caught behind her tongue. She didn’t know this man. Not his voice. Not his ship. And yet—he spoke like someone she did.

 

Her thoughts tangled.

 

And then, quietly—so softly she almost didn’t hear it—he said, “Yes.”

 

Had she spoken aloud?

 

His eyes met hers. There was something in them that stirred a forgotten ache in her—like a half-remembered song, or a dream lost upon waking.

 

“I’ve been searching for you,” he said, his voice deeper now. “To help you remember who you are. And to give you the power to decide what comes next.”

 

She stared at him. “Why?”

 

“Because your story isn’t over,” he said. “Not unless you want it to be.”

 

She wavered.

 

Trust. It wasn’t something she gave easily anymore.

 

Still, her hand lifted. Trembled. Reached.

 

Their fingers nearly touched—

And then, like mist in wind, he began to fade. First his edges. Then his form. Until there was nothing left. 

 

“Wait,” she whispered.

 

But the cave was empty.

 

Had he been real? Or only a mirage—her longing in the shape of a man?

 

 

~~

 

 

Something had changed.

 

She turned back toward the cliff. 

 

The sea roared far below. 

 

The wind pulled at her hair again, louder now. Wilder.

 

She stepped to the edge. Closed her eyes.

 

And let herself fall.

 

For a moment, only air. Cold and clean.

 

Then—

 

The sea.