This is a short-story begun long ago, but never completed

Why?

Because the only way back was up, and up was just another way down. And down . . .

Down was into the river that would spell her end. Tongues of fire wreathed the waters, lending a horrifying green glow to their poisonous streams. That was certain death, and a terrible one too. And yet . . . glancing over her shoulder, the woman shuddered as she caught sight of the looming cliff behind her. For the thousandth time she followed its rearing height up until it was obscured in clouds. Though she could not see, she knew what – who – was at the top. That thought terrified her more than even the poisonous river below.

She had done it – betraying him who had never done her wrong. For so long she had resisted the temptation, but her strength had failed. She gave in, and even as she did so, regretted it.

Now she stood upon the edge of certain death. Would he miss her? Not when he learned what she had done. The idea of returning to him and asking for forgiveness she had banished long ago. No one could forgive a betrayal like this. A betrayal of ultimate trust. She had been too weak to be true and even now cursed herself for being too weak to take the jump.

She deserved it – the terrible, painful death. Deserved every second of it. Yet the more she contemplated, the more she feared this death. No, no she did not want to go alone into the darkness!

“Is there no other way?” she whispered, watching as the flaming waters rose a little higher. Soon, they would cover the bare strip of ground she was standing on. Then she would be consumed. Just wait – let the water do its work. She need not jump – time would take care of it for her . . .

But she didn’t want to die!

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, a sob shaking her shoulders, “I’m so sorry.”

The watery flames cracked, sizzled, and rose a little higher. Another sound whispered by her ear. It was like liquid bells, but somehow sweeter. As if a blue-bell could have a voice, or an instrument play on the very essence of star-water. Glancing up, she saw a small, white bird.

Out from the shadows it appeared, and flying thrice around her head, perched on her shoulder. She was too stunned to do anything but stare at it. The golden luster in its eyes drew her in and she sensed that this was somehow more than a bird.

“What are you?” she whispered. With a chirp, the tiny creature flew up from her shoulder, circling twice around her head as it twittered and sang. Through the melodic sounds, she grasped a word whispering.

“Hope.”

Slowly, she shook her head, shoulders hunching miserably.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” she whispered, even as it perched on her opposite shoulder, “I’m not worth it.”

The bird cocked its head to the side, as if to say: “Yes, I know. What does that matter?”

“Please, please, go help someone else,” she sobbed, “There’s nothing you can do.”

The water rose higher, its fumes filling her lungs with an acrid, painful smoke. She coughed, retching on the vile taste. Her eyes clouded and she tipped forward, the weight in her chest drawing her down.

Suddenly, a cool, sweet breeze stole past the fumes, freeing her lungs, lifting her heart and clearing her sight. She blinked, and saw the little white bird, flying just before her face as it fanned silvery-blue wind towards her gasping mouth.

“Why?” she choked, “Why didn’t you let me fall?”

With a little dive, the bird swooped upwards, flying so swiftly that, one moment she could see it glowing in the air just above her, and the next it had vanished in the clouds.

Again, the flash of blue appeared as high above, the bird circled, singing and calling to her, just beneath the lowering canopy.

And she knew – it wanted her to climb the cliff.

“No, no,” she murmured, backing away and just catching her step before the river, “I can’t go up there! He’ll hate me, and throw me back. I’d rather jump than see . . . see his eyes,” she shook her head, sinking slowly to her knees.

Again the poisonous fumes seared her vision to darkness, quenching her spirit and burdening her heart. All she had to do was lean back now. Just fall and the river would catch her. Bear her away from the guilt-filled madness . . .

But again her mind cleared, and she saw the bird, once more giving her air to breathe.

“I can’t,” she murmured.

“Yes you can,” the golden eyes seemed to say.

“I’m too scared,” she countered, trembling as the sound of hissing waters grew louder – closer, “You know that! I’m weak and petty and afraid and wicked . . .” a heavy sob choked her, “And sorry,” she finally whispered, “So sorry.”

“Then make it right.”

“I can’t! I’m a coward – don’t you see?”

She looked away, unable to meet the soft, golden eyes. Still, the silvery voice murmured through her mind.

“Be brave.”

Could she really be brave? After all this – all of this horrible treachery and cowardice – could she be brave?

“Be brave.” The voice whispered again.

“I can’t!”

“Try.”

“Why?”

A long, waiting silence, and then:

“Because you want to.”

Did she really? Well . . . looking up, the woman met the bird’s golden gaze.

“I do want to,” she whispered, “But does that mean I can?”

The bird flew closer, “You can try.”

Try, but was it worth the trying? Why try when she might fall anyway? Why not just end it now – there was no chance she could be strong enough – brave enough – to climb that cliff.

“You have nothing left to lose,” the soft voice reminded her.

And she realized, it was right.

“And everything to gain – maybe?” she whispered, lifting her gaze past the bird and towards the cliff. Could she face him if she reached the top? If she reached the top. She might as well try and trying, fail. That would be better than to simply give up.

“Wouldn’t it?” she asked, meeting the bird’s eyes.

“Yes.”

With a deep and shaky breath she stood, stepping away from the boiling water and walking towards the foot of the cliff.

[here the manuscript ends]