SCRIBBLE
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PierJumping S
he didn’t know what she was doing, why she was there, what supernatural force summoned her to the promenade in the early hours of a bleak December morning. It was cold. Obviously. Sharp bursts of wind gripped her nerve endings, paralysing her from neck to ankle, entangling around her wrists like shackles – she made sure she wore boots at least. Winter boots: they forced her to keep her feet on the ground and from going in the wrong direction. Sturdy boots; heavy boots. She found herself heading towards the pier, deserted and eerie as the salt-stained wooden boards unfolded out to sea. She approached it gingerly, every step in her hefty boots leaving a void in the silence of the sleeping coast. Peering over the edge of the railings revealed dark, murky waters, the empty black surface concealing its unknown depths. It was swirling menacingly, as if it was beckoning her to jump. She had the urge to jump – her inner Id screaming the desire for pain and exhilaration. But no.
H S cold.
er body started lightly convulsing, but she wasn’t sure whether that was the euphoria she felt from her morbid thoughts or the merciless
he ambled to the other side of the entrance; her eyes squinted against the blast of tangy mist that erupted from the water below. Again she gazed across the base of the unstable structure and noticed seaweed suffocating the pillars holding the pier afloat, waves lapping its foundations, encouraging the invasion. The strands of green slime tangled their tentacle like strands around the eroded metal.
A
By Dani Hales
s the cold reached the marrow in her bones she began to pick up speed, continuing further onto the dingy pier, absent of cheery British holidaymakers and pensioners allowing their lives to drip away. Now, only abandoned stalls, posters half ripped, sun stained and antique and one ice cream stand half way down occupied the walkway.
T T
here was no light. Not a star in the infinite expanse of black rolling above her. No moon, she guessed the clouds were burying its glow. She let out a scowl but hastily continued, pacing with her arms folded and head submerged into the neckline of her hoodie. he last remaining lantern along the pier was restlessly flickering, as if the brutality of the gusts made that cold too. Its breathing shallow and quick, just as she passed it released its final wheeze of energy and any surviving glow vanished. She truly was submerged in the darkness. Aimlessly, she threw her arms out and felt for the railing. Blind and freezing? I wonder if this is what it feels like when you’re dead. She guided herself along the edge of the pier, taking in a stream of salty air, battering itself against the back of her throat. Her face felt hard and fresh, lightly stinging at the impact of bitty water droplets navigating themselves towards her eyes. Her expression was scrunched up, twisted like a barbed wire fence trapping livestock in a field. She paused as she reached the bend at the end of the pier, absorbing the
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