To listen to the spoken word version of this story CLICK HERE
Narrated by Robin Akin, https://robinakin.com/
Her house sat in the middle of nowhere. The Little Girl lived where the land ended. Here, the land painlessly surrendered to the violent ocean, which lay just beyond and below her cliff, which was the end of her backyard and her world.
The land was very flat and there were no other houses within sight of hers. She loved her house. Her father had built it before she was born. He had been a good man.
She sat in her backyard with her back facing the cliff and she looked at her house. She loved it. It was simple, it was perfect, it was symmetrical. She really liked that. She stared at this house built by her father. It seemed to have grown out of the hard ground over the course of centuries. It was a simple three-story structure, rectangular, with a door in the front and a door in back, both centered perfectly within the walls where they had been placed. She stared at this structure built by her father and it was somehow soothing to know that his eyes and hands had checked each joint, fitting and level. It was perfect.
She sat in the two-foot high grass of her open backyard and turned to face the cliff. It was over 100 yards away and she was forbidden to approach it. She sat in the grass with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them and only her head was visible. Hers was a solitary life, but a uniform and predictable one, and that was perfectly comfortable for her.
On some days when the wind was just right she could hear the ocean waves crashing into the rocks at the base of the cliff and she wondered why the ocean was so constantly angry.
Days passed and her life did not change. Her backyard did not change. Some days she would see other children in the distance and their vague foggy forms would wave to her and she would wave back. These were friends to her although no one had ever come near enough to even touch her.
Days passed.
Her isolation was her constant companion, each problem or struggle solely her own responsibility.
As she look at her backyard, hers were the only footprints that could be seen, and hers the only paths mowed through the grass.
Days passed.
The Little Boy watched her. It had taken him days but he had climbed to the top of the cliff and he sat there, his head barely discernable above the grass.
He watched her sit. He watched her play with her dolls. He watched her walk and pretend to be on great adventures. He watched her slowly fall asleep and take long naps. She loved her sleep. He watched her go inside and then come back out. He saw no one else but her as if she lived alone. He watched her for so long that he lost track of how many days and weeks it had been since he first saw her.
One day, she fell into a deep sleep and The Little Boy rose from the grass. He was a stocky little boy with brown hair and light green eyes. Bedroom eyes his grandmother had always called them. His mother had told him that there was something very special behind his eyes but at his young age he still couldn’t comprehend what that meant.
He stood and walked towards The Little Girl who was casually and openly napping. Her dolls were next to her and one still lie limply in her left hand. He sat cross-legged. He was a patient Little Boy and he sat there with his hands folded in his lap and watched this angel of a girl sleeping.
She was the most beautiful thing that The Little Boy had ever seen. He had watched her for so long and from so far and he had never dared to come this close. Now he was close enough to touch. He could barely contain his excitement and anticipation.
She stirred in her sleep and he touched her cheek gently. This instantly pacified her and he smiled as her breathing slowed again to a peaceful rhythm.
She slowly awoke and she was staring directly at him. Her eyes were not focused at first but when they finally were, she got up with a start and ran into the house that her father had built.
The Little Boy sat down in the grass with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them and he stared at the door into which she had just run.
She was inside and she had never been so frightened. She sat in a corner on the top floor. This had been her father’s bedroom and it was her favorite place.
She would occasionally peer out of the window only to find him still sitting there in her backyard. The wind tousled his hair and he did not move. He just sat there with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He was a patient Little Boy.
He knew exactly where she was and that she was looking at him, but he dare not move his eyes to that third floor window right away. She had to get comfortable and he would be patient. He had come so far and so long and he had found her. He wasn’t leaving without her.
One day the back door opened and The Little Girl stood in the doorway. She was stunning. Her dark hair, dark eyes and her olive-toned skin were the most attractive things that he had ever seen. He smiled and he stood up.
“You’re supposed to come with me.” He said.
She stared at him, this Little Boy with his messy hair and crooked smile. She felt as if she were floating and that her head was spinning. She was suddenly frightened and she told him to go away and that she would never come out again and then she slammed the door.
The Little Boy sat down in the grass with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them and he stared at the door, which she had just slammed. She was inside and she had never been so frightened. She sat in a corner on the top floor. This had been her father’s bedroom and it was her favorite place.
The next day the back door opened and The Little Girl stood in the doorway.
She stepped into the backyard. Her solid green dress flowed with the wind about her ankles.
“You’re supposed to come with me.”
He was looking through her it seemed, as if he knew all of her secrets. He was laying her soul bare and there was nothing that she could do about it.
She stared into his green eyes. Green was her favorite color. He extended his hand.
“You’re supposed to come with me. Come, I have come a long way, and we must start our journey back together.”
He spoke with confidence and with a melodic voice the likes of which she had never heard before. It was part lullaby, part symphony, almost hypnotic, but at the same time it contained a certain wise authority that seemed to touch the deepest parts of her.
His hand remained extended and he waved her to him.
The Little Girl had never been so frightened. Her orderly world had never been more out of control. Her head was spinning, but all that she could think of was how much she wanted to take his hand.
She spoke. “I am so frightened of you. No one has ever been here before. I don’t know what to do.”
“I have come for you. I have dreamt about you and this moment. You are exactly what my visions have said you would be.”
“You’re supposed to come with me.”
“Where?”
“To my place beyond the cliff.”
“I’m not allowed to go there. It is dangerous.”
“You will be safe because you will be with me.”
“Where did you come from?”
“I am from beyond your cliff. Take my hand, please. Come Little Girl, come to me.”
“No one can live beyond the cliff. It is impossible.”
“Come with me. I will show you. Take my hand.”
She stepped towards him and extended her hand. Her eyes were closed. When their fingertips touched her arm attempted to recoil as if it had touched a live wire. His swiftness and agility surprised her and in an instant her hand was completely enveloped in his.
They stood there with her left hand in his right and he turned towards the cliff. She would not move. He pulled and tugged her. Inch-by-inch she moved away from her house and towards her cliff. With each inch she told him that she was scared of the cliff. He told her that he would take care of her.
For days they stood inching their way. He turned to her one last time.
She spoke. “I want to trust you. I have never trusted anyone. Can I trust you?”
The Little Boy started to cry. “Yes you can trust me. There is no safer place for you than next to me. I have come for you. I live for you.”
He tugged her one last time and they both began to run. She had never run before. She didn’t realize it but she was squeezing his hand rhythmically. They ran in unison and the cliff was getting closer. She felt alive for the first time in the presence of this Little Boy and she realized she would follow him wherever he led for the rest of her life.
They were both at a full cantor. She could really hear the ocean now and feel the sea’s mist. They approached the edge. As the last inches of her backyard, her prior life, raced beneath and behind them, he turned to her and ran backwards in front of her. As they reached the edge, he pulled her close and they were catapulted as one over the edge. They were falling freely above the ocean, bathed in the most beautiful sunlight.
A shroud of love covered them and their souls were fused into one. She was confused as there was no sensation of falling. There was no splash or hitting of jagged rocks at the cliff’s base. The cliff began to melt away.
They were actually rising in the air and she began to realize that they were being transported to his special place. It seems that the cliff was just a mirage, a barrier placed in her way by those that had come before him. He was here to help her destroy the cliff and he had. Together they had gotten past her life’s greatest obstacle.
She felt ecstasy in his arms and she made his special place her own. She never left his side.
They were one eternally.
