An excerpt from "Off the Edge" (my original story)

The house was dead silent. The creaking of the stairs as I carefully tiptoed down them seemed to shake the house, echoing throughout the quiet darkness. I could almost see the sound, bouncing off the decades-old appliances in the kitchen and the outdated furniture, more fragile than their elderly owner.

It took about ten minutes for me to get to the door, moving in slow motion as I tried to make as little sound as possible. The extra weight of my backpack didn’t help, making me feel like I was going to fall through the old, rotting floorboards. I had about twenty feet to go.

When I finally reached the door, something made me pause. The knob was cold under my fingertips. This was the last time I’d feel it. The last time I’d smell the strange mix of old-lady perfume, cat hair, and sadness of this house. The last time I’d feel that little pang of anxiety as I left the safety of the house, despite how much I hated being there.

I opened it, inhaling the sweet autumn night air. It was colder than I’d anticipated, but that wouldn’t be an issue for much longer. Not for me, anyway.

As I neared the gate that sat lopsided in the center of the rusted chain link fence, something large and blurry swooped down and I flinched as I heard it come into contact with the gate, making a high-pitched screeching sound that made my head hurt. Breathing heavily now, I realized that it was nothing but a barn owl, immediately feeling stupid for getting scared.

Waving my arms frantically, I tried to shoo it away, but it wouldn’t budge. I knew it wouldn’t hurt me, but I didn’t want to get too close to it, either since I’d never really encountered one before- with the exception of about ten seconds on a school trip to the zoo in first grade. I continued to flail my arms and make it go away, edging slightly closer to it, but it still wouldn’t budge. It just sat there staring at me with its beautiful brown eyes, bobbing its head occasionally, but never looking anywhere else.

I don’t have time for this, I thought as I hesitantly made my way to a part of the fence that was about six feet away from where the owl was. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I hopped over the fence, continuing what I’d set out to do.

The owl remained still, moving nothing but its head to follow me all the way down the street until I turned the corner.

Slightly disturbed, I continued to walk the fifteen blocks that I’d walked so many times before, though this time would be the final. I kept my hood up, shielding my face from any possible cameras and the occasional car that drove by with headlights temporarily blinding me in stark contrast to the non-existent light of Maine at two-o-nine in the morning.

The wind started to pick up as I got closer to the bay, and even more so as I found my way to the dock, sitting on the edge, sneakers dangling over the water, just barely skimming the surface.

Staring into the blackness of the water, I contemplated. I let the cold wind numb my body as I thought about why I was here. What I was going to do. Why I was going to do it.

I remembered the day everything began to crumble. I was twelve. It’d been about two months since Dad left us with nothing- not even an explanation. We were about to get evicted because Mom couldn’t pay the bills, but we still pretended like everything was okay. One day, she got tipped extra at the diner and went out to get some desperately needed groceries, leaving me home alone. I’ll be back in an hour, she told me, I love you so much, my angel.

Three hours passed and she still wasn’t home. I began to worry, and didn’t know what else to do except get my mind off of it by turning on the T.V. As I browsed channels, I passed the local news station, and there she was. I still remember the headline; California reaches thirty-five drug overdoses in two weeks. And there was my mother. Her name plastered on the screen as lucky number thirty-five.

I sat there until morning, staring off into space, frozen as though when she died, she took my soul with her, leaving nothing but a cold body filled up with nothing. I remember thinking that there was something wrong with me because I didn’t cry. Even as Child Services came and took me away, placing me with my crazy old grandma who lived across the country and couldn’t even remember my name. I was angry, mostly at my father for causing the ripple effect that led to my abandonment, but I couldn’t bring myself to cry. The emotion that brought tears seemed to leave me the second she was gone. I was unsure if it was a blessing or a curse, because at least I wasn’t up all night weeping. But at the same time, I felt like I was supposed to do that. Supposed to feel something when I thought about what had happened.

I’ve been with my grandma for a little over three years now, and it’s been absolute hell. The town was nothing short of ghostly, and even if that wasn’t the case, I was not permitted to leave the house unless I was going to school.

But the school was treacherous, with caddy girls often making fun of me and boys that would barely even look at me, and on the rare occasion that they did, it was a harsh glare as they called me a name that I wasn’t even sure the meaning of. I was the school outcast, the quiet kid, the orphaned new girl that nobody liked because she was ugly so nobody would even try to talk to her. I’d tried to fit in so hard, but only ended up making a fool of myself, adding more and more length to the rope that tied me to that school. So much length had been added to the rope that I was now eons away from ever being anything that was remotely recognizable. My name was one that, if people knew it at all, was one that would follow with a scoff, grimace, or roll of the eyes because I was just me. Just Madeline. Just that girl. The one who is so isolated that she’s entirely invisible- only acknowledged if someone accidentally bumped into her as she droned through the halls.

People don’t understand just how much their words affect others. Being mentally strong or weak had nothing to do with it. It was the sheer fact that there was so much sharp, acute, hatred behind their sneering faces that it stabbed holes in anyone they talked to. The laughter that followed was nothing but a mask, hiding their ugly intentions. It was a fail-safe. If they laugh after they insult someone, they get to say "Oh, I was just joking" and somehow that made everything okay. It didn’t matter how many holes their words had stabbed in someone to the point where there was nothing left to stab. Of course, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was their popularity or temporary joy in making someone else suffer.

After a good two years of being stabbed by so many people, I’d come to the realization that nobody would even accept the fact that I existed, so I was sure it wouldn’t phase anybody when I ceased to do so.

Reflecting back on it all, all the words and comments and insults swirling through my head, I’d begun to feel the unfamiliar sting of watery eyes, which then turned into waterfalls, and I watched my tears fall into the black water. It was the first time I’d been able to cry, and I was admittedly ashamed that it took this much, this long, and for me to be in this position in order to feel anything that intensely.

Sniffling, I twisted around, slowly unzipping my bookbag before taking out three bricks and a rope. I tied the rope to the bricks, knotting it multiple times so that I was sure it wouldn’t come undone. Then, shakily, I took off my shoes and socks (though I was unsure of exactly why I did this) before tying the other end to my ankle, knotting it just as many, if not even more times than I’d done with the bricks.

I took off the necklace that my mother had given me for Christmas when things were still okay. It was modest; a short, simple silver chain with a small flower pendant hanging down. My hands were trembling and it was at that point that I realized it was so cold that I could see my breath. I put the necklace in my shoe to keep it safe as if that actually mattered. I put my shoes in my bookbag and zipped it up, shoving it away from the water’s edge.

I breathed deeply, feeling the stab of the cold air as it went down my nose and chest. Second-guessing thoughts ran through my head as I scooched myself closer to the edge of the dock, trying to avoid splinters from the rotting wood. I shook my head, ridding all thoughts away, feeling every one dissolve into a billion little fragments like one of those vintage Etch-A-Sketch boards. My head went quiet- for the first time in my life there was absolutely nothing there.

Which meant that there was absolutely nothing stopping me from sliding off the edge and into the ice-cold blackness of the water.

I felt its frigidness seep into my lungs as I intentionally inhaled, feeling it fill me up entirely. I watched phantom colors dance behind my eyes as I waited for the bricks to hit the mucky bottom. The water suffocated me, though the lack of thoughts in my head eliminated any fear or emotion whatsoever. It was just simply occurring………...however, it continued to simply occur for a long time. I wasn’t dying. It’d been at least five minutes and I wasn’t dying. I realized that I hadn’t felt the bricks touch the bottom either, and the water was continuously rushing upwards around my body as I sank.

Ten minutes had gone by. I wasn’t dying. My body had gone numb at the coldness of the water that was still rushing by me as I knew I was still sinking. But I wasn’t dying.

Fifteen minutes. I wasn’t dying. I continued to sink.

Twenty minutes.

Eventually, what felt like thirty minutes had gone by and I was still alive. I was still sinking and I was beginning to regain my thoughts unfortunately. I’d started to panic. Why aren’t I dying? I’m supposed to be dead already, I’m supposed to be at the bottom of the bay already. Why aren’t I dying? I just want to-

My franticness was cut off by the sudden jerk of the rope as it came to a halt. It was only then that I opened my eyes, realizing that I wasn’t in the bay at all. I was floating, suspended in midair, seemingly thousands of feet above the ground. The principle of gravity seemed to be nonexistent in any logical scenario that I tried to come up with in order to compensate for the mind-blowing phenomenon I was witnessing. The rope that was tied around my ankle was replaced with a thick black cord that was tying me down to something I couldn’t see.

My breathing became rapid as anxiety engulfed me like the clouds that I was now among. This is impossible. Impossible. There was absolutely no way this could be happening.

I hoped with everything in me that I was already dead and that this was some crazy post-death thing because if this was actually happening- well…. I don’t know what I’d do because I was not sure I could even handle it.

After about five minutes of utterly losing my mind, I caught my breath, not quite coming to terms with what the heck was going on, but I wanted to figure it out. Reluctantly, I curled my body as much as possible and grabbed the cord that was suspending me in the air. It was surprisingly hot and almost hurt to hold for a long span of time- almost as though there was electricity running through it.

As I curled, I realized that my roughed-up jeans and tattered hoodie were still damp, but they weren’t cold. They stuck to me like the saran wrap that I used to seal left-overs on the rare occasion that I ate an actual meal instead of snacking all day.

Not even trying to question that any further, I gripped both hands around the cord and began to pull myself down to wherever the other end was being held. My hands started to burn but I fought through the searing pain with as much vigor as possible.

I continued for a long time, the cord bunching in my arms as I pulled and pulled, hopefully getting closer to the end, and some answers.

As I did so, slight vexation began to creep up my spine as angry thoughts splattered across my mind. I should be dead. I am supposed to be dead. Why the hell do I have to keep suffering? I just wanted to die- was that so much to ask?

Then, out of nowhere, a familiar screech was suddenly right by my head as a blur of white and brown feathers with sharp talons stinging the sides of my cheeks. On instinct, I shielded my head and let go of all the bunched-up cord that I had in my arms, forcing me to float back up to where I’d started, floating farther away from any possible answers.

But I didn’t have time to think about answers then, I just needed this crazy owl to get out of my face. It continued to angrily claw and flap its way around my head and shoulders, blocking any view at all besides its feathers. I felt the cord yank me down as it got tight again- signifying I’d officially been back to the same exact spot as I’d started.

The owl stopped all at once, soaring away, and I’d hoped it was finished torturing me as I felt blood seep from my face. My stomach sank as I watched it circle back around and I quickly shielded my face again but instead of coming at my head again, it attacked the cord, somehow sn apping it with ease before flying quickly out of sight.

Out of breath, I realized that I was continuing to rapidly float upwards as though I was full of helium. Frantically, I looked around for anything to grab onto that could stop me, but there was nothing but an infinite pale blue-gray color which I assumed was the sky, but at this point, I had no clue what was happening.

Craning my neck back to see above me, my eyes almost popped out of my head as I realized that I was floating towards what looked like an upside-down city made of glass and suspended in mid-air, just like I was. Every structure looked like it was made of clear glass, creating a reflection that made my head spin.

Quickly, I realized that the city wasn’t upside down- I was. As I got closer and closer to the ground of the city, I began to panic as I tried to flip myself around so that I at least wouldn’t land on my head.

Gravity seemed to catch up with me as my speed increased, leaving me no time to flip before my head smashed against the ground- making everything go black.

My ears rang as my eyes flitted open and I squinted at the harsh contrast of the insanely bright lights.

Memory of everything that had just happened flooded back to me and I hoped with everything in me that it was all just some sick dream, but I knew that somehow it wasn’t. Somehow all of that just really happened and somehow, I was somewhere in that floating glass city that I’d fallen into.

Footsteps echoed throughout the room I was in, and I quickly sat up, suddenly aware of my surroundings.

I was in a small room made of glass, but it was foggy, and I couldn’t see anything but moving colors on the other side of the panels. I sat above the covers of a neatly made bed in the corner of the room where nothing else but a simple white table stood blankly. There was no door or window, so I was unsure of how I’d even gotten in to begin with, but my head hurt too much to try and figure it out.

There was a woman in front of the bed with pale skin, light blonde hair, blue-gray eyes, and a white full bodysuit with gray seams. I looked down at my dark jeans, gray hoodie, and black hair, feeling more so like I didn’t belong than ever before.

“Are you alright?” the woman asked with little concern, almost like that of a robot, which made me extra uneasy.

“W-where am I? What just happened? I’m supposed to be…” I trailed off my frantic questions as she began to smile. The unease turned into the beginning of a panic attack as I watched the woman hold back from laughing.

“You’re supposed to be dead, right?” she said, voice full of amusement.

“How did you know that? Who are you? What’s happening?!” I started again, becoming desperate for answers as though I might go mad. I couldn’t wrap my head around what occurred. I had no sense of time or any idea as to where I was or how I’d somehow gone from the bottom of the bay to floating in the air and falling into some hovering glass city.

“Calm down, Madeline. Just follow me and The Ruler will explain everything.” the woman answered, the humor falling out of her voice.

“No! I’m not going to follow you! I don’t know you! And who is this ruler? And how do you know my name? And why-'' I began to lose control of myself, this was all just way too much to handle, and I had absolutely no explanation for any of this craziness. I was going to demand answers and get them one way or another, but the woman cut me off.

“Please,” she said simply. “Things will all make sense if you just come with me, please.”

I said nothing, my mind racing as I breathed heavily, biting my inner lip, still hoping that this was a dream, but everything in me knew it wasn’t.

The woman sighed. “The Ruler is Elara…I believe you once knew her?”

My heart felt like it stopped. Everything around me spun and I put my head in my hands, my brain overloading with so many things that I couldn’t even begin to process it all. I knew that the only way I could try to sort things out was if I went to her. I most definitely knew Elara, and I knew she’d tell me anything I asked her, but I was unsure if I could even handle the truth if I knew it.

Trembling, I stood and followed the woman. She waved her hand in front of the glass and the entire wall folded in on itself, then reassembled after we had walked through.

Instantly, we were walking the streets of the city which instead of being paved, were made entirely of marble. Enormous glass structures towered on either side of us as I followed the woman for a few blocks before coming to an immense tower lined with diamonds and splashes of stained glass in neat designs around the outside.

She led me into the building, waving her hand again as we got to the front, which opened similarly to the wall of the other room, but instead of folding, it simply slid to the side.

I was expecting something grand and fancy, but there was only one large room with what looked like an elevator on the far wall. The room was blank with the exception of five white chairs and a matching table in the center.

As we entered, the woman gestured for me to sit, but I didn’t want to. If Elara was really going to show up, there was no way I’d be sitting down for that.

Silently, we sat there for a short while until the elevator doors opened, revealing another woman. Her hair was dark, and she wore a dark green pantsuit which made her green eyes pop, making me feel as though she was looking into my soul. She had an air about her that was so different from what I’d remembered that I doubted it was really her.

I was uncontrollably shaking at that point as I slowly made my way to meet her in the middle of the room. She smiled kindly and stood there looking at me for a long while. I did the same and that unfamiliar sting of tears welled up in my eyes again as I reached out to touch her hand, unbelieving that she was really right in front of me.

I took a deep breath, scared to confirm what was clearly right in front of me. “Mom?” I murmured weakly. I could barely bring myself to choke out the word before breaking down into hysterical weeping. It tasted so foriegn on my lips that I was unsure if I’d even said the right thing before she hugged me.

My body tensed up as she did, and I realized that I couldn’t even recall the last time I’d been hugged. I sobbed more as I let myself relax, remembering how amazing it felt to just let myself cry in someone’s arms. I closed my eyes, letting all of my questions dissolve. I didn’t care about all those answers anymore- I was doing something that I thought I’d never possibly be able to do again.