The Girl On the Bluff

She awoke to the sound of waves crashing against the jagged rocks. Her eyes fluttered open and a smile stretched slowly across her face. She sat up and glanced at the clock that hung on her wall. It was just about to be five in the morning. Her family would not be getting up for another two hours or so. It was late August and the morning air chilled her bare arms. Goose bumps prickled up her skin as the wind danced through her open windows. She stood up to close them but stopped when she saw how beautiful the morning was.

The house itself overlooked an extensive patch of thick trees, but her room in particular was high enough that you could just catch glimpses of a cliff that hovered over the rocky shoreline. This morning was the finale of a tremendous storm. The sky was a comforting shade of bluish-grey. The wind protested against the sea, and the water in turn took its rage out on the giant rocks. The rocks however were seemingly unbothered by the lengthy tantrums being thrown. They stood as tall and strong as ever, the perfect image of stoicism.

Without wasting another moment she threw on an oversized grey sweater and some sweatpants. On top of her clothes she dawned a deep blue waterproof jacket. She picked up a pair of old boots and quietly climbed down the ladder from her loft bedroom. As expected, the central area of the house was completely empty. She silently scampered across to the kitchen to grab the items necessary for her outing. Into a small cloth bag she threw an apple, an oat bar, and a jar of cold tea. She paused, contemplating whether to heat up the tea or not. Finally she came to the conclusion that the morning was cool enough on its own and there was no reason to give herself any further chills. She carefully poured the liquid into a small pot and turned on the stove. While the tea heated she continued to collect items from around the room. A soft hat. A well-used notebook. A short, stubby pencil. She returned to her tea and relocated it back into its jar. With the lid sealed on tight and her bag full of trinkets, she crept out of the house, the door creaking shut behind her.

She sucked in a breath as the wind found a way up into her sleeves. The trees shuddered, and she started her trip along the short path. The branches were heavy with leaves, causing the light to be thick with shadows. She eventually emerged from the evergreen trees, and found herself in a familiar place that she had loved since she was young. Her bluff. Technically speaking the grassy cliff edge didn’t belong to anyone, but she’d always felt as if it preferred her company over the company of others. She smiled a tender smile and embraced the salty air that tousled her long auburn locks. She sat at the edge of the bluff with her feet dangling off into the abyss. She spent the next few minutes soaking in the sight of the misty horizon far away, and the fierce waves with their ruinous intentions down below. Filled with inspiration, she pulled out her notebook and began flipping through it in search of a free canvas. She turned the pages slowly, reminiscing over poems, a drawing of a marigold, potential love songs, and short stories. She found a fresh unoccupied sheet of paper and sighed as she picked up her well-used pencil. Would she write a piece of poetry? Or perhaps sketch and recreate the image of the wind and water colliding? She settled further into the tall grass as her pencil flew over the page.