a free write from last summer
The sky held an eerie pink and orange hue. The sun seemed to sputter out flames of burning salmon at the cloud cover. Like a valiant warrior, the sun was not yet ready to give up the day, but he was fighting a battle he had already lost. Night was well on its way, soon to claim what little remained of the sky.
As night rapidly approached, so did the storm. The clouds began to settle in, at first only offering up a mist that put a moist film on everything it touched. The ocean knew of the pending storm, and waves could be heard crashing against the rocks that lined the bottom of the cliff. The spray from the waves reached up to meet the mist, and the night.
High above these rocks, a wooded area opened up to a grassy cliff the likes of which could not be ascertained until one was on top of it, about to plunge over to certain death. On the cliff the wind made a soft whistle, warning all that would listen that the storm was coming and with the storm, certain destruction.
A young beautiful woman with pale blue eyes and milky white skin, clad in a navy petticoat with beautiful lacework around the collar, ran out of the forest, highly out of breath. She kept glancing behind her as she ran into the clearing over to the cliff. This was her only means of escape. She wished that before running out of the house, she had had the time to at least loosen the corset that confined her. Now, the tightness of cloth and bone made it impossible to breathe. But such things could not be worried about. Now she had to find a way of escape. Her beautiful chestnut hair, so carefully and artfully done earlier, was falling out of the confines of the combs and hung loosely in her face and along the nape of her neck. The fine mist, that had fallen on her as well as the surrounding trees and field, hung on her perfect curls, weighing them down, straightening them. Through this mist, one could not see the tears that streamed down her face. She breathed as deeply as her confines would allow, letting in a sharp breath, connoting horror, when she heard the breaking of twigs and the disturbance of leaves, indicating that her pursuer was in fact very near.
She ran through the wet grass to the very edge of the cliff. The young woman heard the waves below more than saw the edge of the cliff, as night was rapidly winning, and the nearly full moon would soon be the only light. Its iridescence eerily came through one of the more sparse clouds in the sky. The rapidly fading horizon still offered some light, but what it was offering was no comfort to the young woman.
A tall man dressed in clothes befitting a gentleman came through the clearing. Although they could barely be seen in this light, his eyes were so dark brown as to look almost black. His wavy black hair was slightly longer than was fashionable. His handsome and noble appearance, too breathed heavily, as he called out to the young woman.
“Ellen, please!” He pleaded between gasps. Noticing that she was at the very edge of the cliff, he put his hands up in a manner in which to beg her to stop, to calm down. “Please, Ellen. Listen to me.”
The young woman was frantic. “Leave me! Stay back!” Ellen screamed at the man. Trying to calm her, he bent his knees, in an attempt to appear shorter, less of a threat to this hysterical girl. “Don’t come any closer!” Ellen screamed.
By this time, the wind on the cliff was no longer whistling, but moaning, seeming to mimic the terror of the girl. It picked her hair up, flailing the wet locks over her face, and bellowing the skirt of her dress, giving her an even more frightful appearance. She was aware of how this must look. What her sister and brother had said about her allowing herself to get wrapped up in the stories that Father was convinced had finally made their mother ill. They would say that her imagination had run away with her after reading her mother’s copy of Udolfo. That she was trying to make Branwell into the evil Montoni, but that wasn’t the case. That wasn’t the case at all. The danger she faced this night was worse than what her beloved Emily had faced. And, what was even more horrifying, this was real. Through clenched teeth, in words muffled by the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks and the moaning wind, Ellen said one simple sentence through clenched teeth, before throwing herself off the cliff making no sound at all save that of her lifeless body crashing on the jagged rocks far below.
Branwell had seen her prepare to jump and ran as fast as he could to the ledge, but she was gone. All he could do was look down in terror at her crumpled lifeless body. No human could have heard the words that were uttered by Ellen before she plummeted to her death. But Branwell had heard her. Before she jumped, Ellen had said “I know what you are.”
As night rapidly approached, so did the storm. The clouds began to settle in, at first only offering up a mist that put a moist film on everything it touched. The ocean knew of the pending storm, and waves could be heard crashing against the rocks that lined the bottom of the cliff. The spray from the waves reached up to meet the mist, and the night.
High above these rocks, a wooded area opened up to a grassy cliff the likes of which could not be ascertained until one was on top of it, about to plunge over to certain death. On the cliff the wind made a soft whistle, warning all that would listen that the storm was coming and with the storm, certain destruction.
A young beautiful woman with pale blue eyes and milky white skin, clad in a navy petticoat with beautiful lacework around the collar, ran out of the forest, highly out of breath. She kept glancing behind her as she ran into the clearing over to the cliff. This was her only means of escape. She wished that before running out of the house, she had had the time to at least loosen the corset that confined her. Now, the tightness of cloth and bone made it impossible to breathe. But such things could not be worried about. Now she had to find a way of escape. Her beautiful chestnut hair, so carefully and artfully done earlier, was falling out of the confines of the combs and hung loosely in her face and along the nape of her neck. The fine mist, that had fallen on her as well as the surrounding trees and field, hung on her perfect curls, weighing them down, straightening them. Through this mist, one could not see the tears that streamed down her face. She breathed as deeply as her confines would allow, letting in a sharp breath, connoting horror, when she heard the breaking of twigs and the disturbance of leaves, indicating that her pursuer was in fact very near.
She ran through the wet grass to the very edge of the cliff. The young woman heard the waves below more than saw the edge of the cliff, as night was rapidly winning, and the nearly full moon would soon be the only light. Its iridescence eerily came through one of the more sparse clouds in the sky. The rapidly fading horizon still offered some light, but what it was offering was no comfort to the young woman.
A tall man dressed in clothes befitting a gentleman came through the clearing. Although they could barely be seen in this light, his eyes were so dark brown as to look almost black. His wavy black hair was slightly longer than was fashionable. His handsome and noble appearance, too breathed heavily, as he called out to the young woman.
“Ellen, please!” He pleaded between gasps. Noticing that she was at the very edge of the cliff, he put his hands up in a manner in which to beg her to stop, to calm down. “Please, Ellen. Listen to me.”
The young woman was frantic. “Leave me! Stay back!” Ellen screamed at the man. Trying to calm her, he bent his knees, in an attempt to appear shorter, less of a threat to this hysterical girl. “Don’t come any closer!” Ellen screamed.
By this time, the wind on the cliff was no longer whistling, but moaning, seeming to mimic the terror of the girl. It picked her hair up, flailing the wet locks over her face, and bellowing the skirt of her dress, giving her an even more frightful appearance. She was aware of how this must look. What her sister and brother had said about her allowing herself to get wrapped up in the stories that Father was convinced had finally made their mother ill. They would say that her imagination had run away with her after reading her mother’s copy of Udolfo. That she was trying to make Branwell into the evil Montoni, but that wasn’t the case. That wasn’t the case at all. The danger she faced this night was worse than what her beloved Emily had faced. And, what was even more horrifying, this was real. Through clenched teeth, in words muffled by the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks and the moaning wind, Ellen said one simple sentence through clenched teeth, before throwing herself off the cliff making no sound at all save that of her lifeless body crashing on the jagged rocks far below.
Branwell had seen her prepare to jump and ran as fast as he could to the ledge, but she was gone. All he could do was look down in terror at her crumpled lifeless body. No human could have heard the words that were uttered by Ellen before she plummeted to her death. But Branwell had heard her. Before she jumped, Ellen had said “I know what you are.”
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