The Coldest Silence

The silence roared in her ears.



The incessant ticking of the wall-clock was deafening to her young ears, and even her breath was abnormally loud. It was a cold night in mid November, and her breath billowed in front of her mouth, her snot freezing in her nose as she inhaled. How long had the heat been off? And who opened the window? Her bare feet padded quietly down the wooden paneled floors as she searched for the source of the unbearable cold, thin arms hugging her slim frame, clutching the sides of the dull flannel nightgown she wore.



It was in the foyer that she found the source of the chill settled upon the house- someone had opened the slider door, which led out onto the balcony. But who? And why? Approaching the door with the intention of closing it, the young woman stopped in her tracks, one hand resting on the simple curve of the door's handle. The waves below crashed on the rocks, and for a long moment Alyson peered over the cliffs to the storm-frothed sea below. In daylight this view was beautiful, the sheer energy of the place empowering her, but at night it seemed the crashing sea roared her name, it's cries filling her ears.



This terrified her, and yet she was drawn to those waves.



Alyson slid the door shut with a click, determined to shut out the freezing air as she continued to stand looking down onto the angry, rolling sea. The tide was going out, and just a hint of pink was visible as a smear of color across the foggy gray horizon. Day would be breaking soon. She sighed as she turned from the door, still confused as to how it had come open in the first place. The silence was unnerving to her, the ticking of the clock seeming ever louder to her as the door was closed to the bellowing of the sea. Somewhere in the distance a door banged, and the young woman of perhaps twenty jumped, startled though the source of the sudden noise was not on her property. Her nerves were strung tight. It had been that way since Jonathon left her. No more did the laughter of children bring a smile to her lips, and no more did the sound of her husband coming home late at night startle her awake. It was all too peaceful, now, and she missed the chaos of her once-happy life.



Going back to the door, she slid the heavy glass-and-wood paneling back, sliding out onto the balcony with a shiver at the biting cold of the night air whipping at her body. Her cheeks were already growing rosy from the chill, and her nightgown and hair flailed frantically about as her bare toes quickly began to grow numb from exposure to the icy wood of the balcony. Alyson leaned far over then, looking down at the sea and growing pensive. Did her life really mean anything, she wondered. Would anyone miss her if she was gone? And if she were to simply jump now, to lean further over the spindly, weakening railing until gravity tugged the slight weight of her body ever downward...would she be missed? How long would it take them to find her body dashed upon the jagged rocks below, and how decomposed would her corpse be by the ever-advancing salt water?



Alyson had always been a little crazy. It was why Jonathon had left, it was why the court didn't grant her visitation rights, and it was why she lived alone. She had a cat, once, but even the cat seemed to prey on her, to jeer and taunt, to glee in her loneliness and her dis-spirit. No...she didn't want to be alone, and yet it seemed she wasn't fit for life among "normal" people- people who weren't clinically insane, or otherwise disturbed.



She leaned further out now, the endlessly long, dark locks of her hair whipping and lashing at her face, their blows stinging her half-numb flesh. Yes...she would end it all, right now. What better time to die than at daybreak? She could watch the rising sun as her body tumbled down that great distance.



The horizon now streaked with pink and pale violets, she gave a great thrust of her body and felt the thin railing break away. Jonathon was going to fix that, before he left...ah well, better now that he didn't. Her body tumbled down, spinning, turning, tossing with the wind. The moment lasted for an eternity, the few-hundred feet she would plummet seeming to stretch on to much greater a distance. There was no moment longer than this, as her heart pounded in her chest, beginning to lose consciousness as fear and adrenaline overtook her body.



*****



They say you always wake up before you hit the bottom. Perhaps it's because we don't know the feel of death, and so cannot dream it. Or maybe it's because some of us fear death so very much that we cannot allow ourselves to experience it even in our sleep. Whatever the case, Alyson awoke, nestled into the warm embrace of her husband. The pitter-patter of little feet could be heard and a smile formed on her lips- the children ought to have been sleeping; it was past midnight, and they'd been put to bed hours ago. Sliding quietly from the bed and the arms of Jonathon, she went to put the children back to bed. The house was cold, and her breath fogged in front of her mouth. She shivered, her thin arms hugging herself against the freezing air. Turning up the thermostat, she glanced at the slider door, down onto the angry, frothing sea below, and smiled to herself. The swooping sensation of falling was fleeting as she slid shut the curtain. No...she could never jump.



*****



Word Count- 977