Day 112 – The Edge of the World

I got distracted by stuffs when writing this… it was done very quickly.

Word count: 573

Wave upon wave crashed thunderously into the high, jaggedly cliffs and drowned the huge rocks beneath his feet. The wind curtailed around him, and it was by sheer miracle that he remained grounded at all on the barren wasteland that was the top of the cliff.

In front of him and for miles and miles further still, all he could see was a vast monotonous plateau of grey steel. But as he narrowed his eyes, he realised that it was far from monotonic. There were deep rolling waves simmering beneath the surface; there were tufts of swell breaking against unseen rocks; birds resting on open water; seals diving and surfacing in delight; and far off on the horizon, the silhouette of a large lonely oil tanker.

Centuries ago this might have been the edge of the world. Cavemen might have stood in this very spot and gazed at sea not quite so different to the one he was staring at. Millennia before that there might have been dinosaurs flouncing around as happily as the seals below; pterodactyls may have soared the thermals.

This spot was precious. There may be other coast lines and other cliffs. There might even be a better view with a bit of shelter. It was not a Grecian island; it was not an archipelago of islands; it was a simple stretch of coastline as common as any other, but equally unique.

For Ray, this place was special. It was the place he would come to run and hide from his rowing parents; or when he had done something wrong. It was here that he’d had his first kiss, lost his first kite, walked his first dog and he was not alone. There were hundreds of people from the local village who would frequent up here; rain nor wind dissuaded them, it was part of the charm. To put on a heavy coat and forget the umbrella; to complain constantly of the miserable weather and wish that it were Italy; to watch the grey skies turn into blackest night and to finally feel the warm fuzz wrinkle your skin into a quiet numbness upon your return home, to sit by the fire and drink a fresh cup of tea.

Ray turned around, with the sea behind him, like a massive army at his command. He felt the waves’ every power; he felt it as if it were part of him, so when he tightened his grip on the picket he was holding, he could feel the force of the waves behind him and he stepped forward and back into the amassing crowd of protesters.

They had been there for hours. There was no stopping them; they had forged together an alliance to ensure that whatever happened, their plans did not fail. This was their spot; their cliff and their choice. No one wanted to lose it; no one wanted it to be scarred for all eternity; to be lost at the fault of some greedy businessman. Each and everyone of their posters read the same thing – two simple letters: NO.

From dawn until dusk they would sit here; they would lie under diggers paths and sabotage their tools if they had to but they would never surrender. For all their lives these cliffs had been barren; and several million pounds worth of holiday home planning permission was certainly not going to alter the view of the edge of the world.

~ by S.G. Mark on January 27, 2012.

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