The Epilogue

The end, but a new beginning.

The wind cascades over his body as he walks, carving into his shirt and making it flap like fins. The stale wind creased his eyes into mischievous slits, raining tears from overexposure. He gazes at the ocean, highlighted by a dark mist and boasting from sticking into the mountains from afar. He can’t even hear his footsteps on the gravel- even with each grainy crush of the pavement beneath his shoes. He holds Marshall’s jacket closer to him and follows the yellow street-divider lines with close precision.

 

They’re the brightest things there- the lines. The misty fog evaporates the scenery ahead, depleting his vision but he knows what he’s looking for. He places his hand tightly to his sides, wondering if the gesture could ease the ache in his stomach- the pulse in his veins. He feels a tingling wind shake his nerves and ruffle his hair. He swallows but nothing gets past.

 

Lightning. Patience. Thunder.

 

Horror. Fear. Panic.

 

It’s like his heart got lodged in his throat, swallowing over and over again to distribute fear all throughout Michael’s body. His hands start quivering but he keeps walking. He’s like a sober man trying desperately to walk a straight line even though he knows he’s safe. Marshall is the police officer, letting him off with a warning.

 

The salt from the sea blowing in his face is giving him nausea, smelling a world below that he can’t see. He hears the pounding of waves getting closer- or more so he’s getting closer to the waves.

 

When he approaches the turquoise guardrails he takes a deep breath, which comes out like a choppy wind current. The nervousness is permeating through his breath now, showing his cowardice. Marshall was brave, he’s a failure.

 

The waves are crashing like roaring tigers, screaming louder with each shock of thunder. He feels weightless and scared, each nerve tingling with hesitation and stabbing another knot of anxiety into his abdomen. He whistles and closes his eyes in an attempt to calm down, paralyzing his muscles and sending his stomach afloat.

 

He walks steadfastly closer to the edge, not hesitating and jumping over the bar, looking at the world beneath him spin around and cast him into a new one. It’s like a surrealism of the mind, a straight edge of manufactured land and a tumultuous example of God-created nature. One false move and he would be done for- and not by his own will but by the hands of human mistakes.

 

So he steadies himself, feeling so nauseous but also so free and understanding. He looks down below and by God he swears he can see Marshall smiling up at him through the glistening of nature’s purest elements. He chuckles with embarrassment and surprise, still pondering the reason why he wants to do this. Is it really to be with Marshall? Or is it to be with himself?

 

His hair brushes over his face by fate of the wind, his heart pulsing a drum in his veins and making him warm. Marshall disappears and so does his smile.

 

He feels like Rose, but with no one to tell her not to jump.

 

And so his jump was not of one the world may have wanted.

 

He splashes water against his face and looks in the mirror, wondering how he woke up from this nightmare and how to make sure it never happens again.

Author's Note

This is a confusing approach to an ending so if you have any questions please let me know and I'll clarify.