Stand on the edge and the view splits. One way is sanity, the other madness. Or perhaps it’s less severe — one side represents the known, and the other the unknown. What kinds of edges are there and what does it split?
Writers explored edges from razors to cliffs. They found humor, wisdom, and thrilling stories. They found small stories with deep meanings. Once you go to the edge, you’ll not see the same way again.
The following are based on the January 25, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that goes to the edge.
At the Edge by Irene Waters
The volcanolgists, wearing kevlar heat protective suits, abseiled into the crater, nearer the vents than any who’d gone before. Many locals gathered at the edge, some watching, some controlling the lines that would return the men to the crater’s rim.
Word was sent “Okay. We’re ready. Pull us up.”
Word was sent down “You haven’t paid us enough. We want another ten thousand dollars. Then we’ll pull you up. “
The volcano rumbled its anger as those inside its fiery walls rumbled theirs. “They’ve got us. We have to pay. Say okay. Once we’re over the edge, that’s another story.”
The Edge by Robert Kirkendall
Terry looked over the screenplay he was cowriting and hoped that the alteration he made would be acceptable. He went to the director.
“There’s something about the script I think should change,” Terry said.
“The title? What’s wrong with Edge of Doom?”
“Well, it’s a bit clichéd.”
“But it matches the theme perfectly!” the director asserted.
“True, but I was thinking of something a little more imaginative.” Terry handed over the rewritten script.
The director looked at the title page. “Seriously?” he laughed. “Who’s going to want to watch a movie called Dr. Strangelove“?
The Windy Edge by AJ Prince
Gooseflesh prickles her skin, but she ignores the sensation, not daring to let her grip go. The wind whips sand across her face as she stares straight ahead, blinking away the sand particles scratching and blurring her vision. The rock wall cut in to her skin as she presses her back into its sharp ridges.
The time was coming, familiar screeching echoed around her until it felt like it was beating against her skull.
She was the last one. No one was left. She could not wait anymore. She jumps from the edge, wings spread far, catching the breeze.
Empty Nest by Juliet Nubel
I always knew she would finally push him out.
She was getting fed up with him, he had grown too much, was taking up too much space.
She had provided for his every need. At his beck and call, day and night.
But he was almost an adult now. It was time.
As I watched from across the street, I saw her push him.
He screamed at her in anger.
But she was determined.
He was standing right on the edge when she gently nudged him with her yellow beak.
He didn’t know he could fly. But she did.
The Edge by Michael
It will come as no surprise to know I sent my mother to the edge on more than one occasion. I was the second of three boys, each perfect in our unique ways.
But I know we drove mum mad.
She’d tell us one thing and we’d do the opposite.
She’d get all upset and we’d say sorry and promise the world.
She’d say, “You’ll be sorry when I’m gone, then we’ll see how much your smart arse attitudes help you.”
We never took her seriously; she was mum and always there.
Then one day she hit the edge.
The Owner’s Edge by Joe Owens
Waycroft held his smile, waiting for Melissa’s frown to fade. but fade it did not.
“You’re serious!” he said with laughter thick in his reply.
“Deadly!” Melissa said through clenched teeth.
“Do you know who I am?”
“I know what you are! But I am not alone. There is so many who will stand with me. This has to end!”
“Melissa,” Waycroft said, smoothly transitioning into the tone that usually allowed him to do what he pleased. “I’m sure we can take care of this.”
“Keep your seat. I have had your hands on me quite enough.”
Canyon of Real by Paula Moyer
Send or don’t send?
Jean stared at the email. Addressee: Title IX coordinator of her alma mater.
Jean never made a secret of it: the stares, the propositions, the butt swats. They were her introduction to graduate school. For over 40 years she had regaled friends with her war stories.
Then an actress spoke up about the exact same thing and a whole movement started.
Statute of limitations be damned. Jean’s “war stories” happened. Someone should know.
Jean now drove her history up to a different edge, the canyon of real. One click would make it real.
(This BOTS flash fiction is an extension of the essay, Me, Too: Sexual Harassment Before It Had a Name, by the author.)
The Edge (Jane Doe Flash Fiction) by Deborah Lee
Jane is halfway across the bridge when the panic hits. Suddenly she is gasping, hot, her hands clammy and her mouth dry. She barely catches herself from bolting backward, right into rush-hour traffic. She clutches at the fencing with one sweaty hand, her eyes drawn over the edge.
Why not? How long can she keep trying, keep losing? The open air calls beyond the chain-link mesh, beckoning to the water far below. It would be hard, and it would be cold, and then it wouldn’t. And for a few seconds, she would be flying.
Would it be so bad?
Edge by Rugby843
I read your words
I fell in love
I heard your voice
I fell deeper
I felt your touch
I fell harder
I couldn’t help myself
I went to the edge
I let myself go
I fell freely
I fell without thought
I fell with conviction
I fell without constraints
You said you’d be waiting
You said dare to fly
You said I’d be safe
You said go to the edge
You said you’d catch me
We made promises
We trusted our feelings
We loved without boundaries
We went to the edge
We fulfilled our dream
We are one.
I Think We’re Alone Now by Michael Fishman
In retrospect Johnny realized that sliding a 45 into Millie Redner’s locker was dumb. The record, a Tommy James single, was fine, but not including a note: dumb. Johnny told himself that anyone thinking about running and tumbling with Millie would have likely made the same mistake.
So here he is, three weeks later. A Thursday night; Bewitched’s theme playing from the TV in the den, Lisa’s number on a slip of paper on the kitchen counter. Johnny squeezes the telephone receiver in his left hand and watches his right hand shake as reaches up to make the call.
The Edge by Susan Budig
Sören drew the edge of the envelope along his lips, contemplating whether to seal it or rip it to shreds. If mailed, he’d have to act immediately. Was he ready? He slid the letter out, “Dear Tessa, if you’re reading this, you’ll know I’ve decided to accept the scholarship and leave for Baltimore. But know this, too: I love you and I’m coming back once I’ve graduated university. If you aren’t here, I’ll understand. Who would wait with only hope to hold her hand for years?” He stopped reading and decisively set course for the rest of his life.
Overcast by Abby Rowe
Do you remember that night we walked the length of the Embankment?
Umbrella coupled; tight. All around, soft rain moistened the pavements, the lamplight, the very air.
With you and I cocooned.
Enveloped in our shelter, we talked of ties that no longer bind.
I stared ahead. You cried.
Over the Thames, the sky cleared, vast and open, and revealed the waning moon,
outlined in its entirety; shadowed yin edging into dying yang.
‘The rain has stopped,’ I said.
Unlinking arms, you folded the umbrella.
We both knew I was wrong. The sole remaining cloud was over us.
The Unkindest Cut by Sue Vincent
“Do it. Now…”
Cold sweat beads on his forehead. Her eyes are keen as anguish, sharp as the steel against his throat. How had he not realised? How had it come to this? He had tried everything. He had even begged. The thought made him squirm, but he no longer cared. He had nothing left.
The bright edge of the razor would strike.
No way to escape.
His hands shake. He must. He cannot. Bile rises as he closes his eyes… all he can see is blood and ruin.
“Now, Dave … Either the beard goes, or I do…”
Foul Fringes by JulesPaige
Where’s the edge of emotion?
How far will you push?
Will I be able to pull out
Of the depths you’ve
Tossed me into?
I must take the edge of arguments
I have heard you yell at each other
Into wee morning hours
The threats and tears
Intruding into my dreams
I cannot know your pain –
You will not accept mine.
Thinking I am not capable –
That I am underdeveloped
Because of my shyness
You are the parents I have,
I was not given a choice
Your maturity seems lacking
As you trip over poured words
That seem meaningless…
Edge by Kay Kingsley
When do you admit that it’s past the point of repair? Past the point of putting the other person first? Past the point of dropping hints or simply flat-out asking why he doesn’t bother with things like flowers anymore? But it’s not only flowers, and she knows it, admitting this, coming to the realization that she is losing him, or has lost him, just seems so surreal. Silently living in a fractured marriage, at the edge of all she has ever known. Ahead lies darkness, fear and the certainty of the freedom she fears most and desperately desires, simultaneously.
Flash Fiction by Pete Fanning
I read the note until I knew each fold and every stain. I studied the slant of her letters, thought I saw a slight hesitation parked at the edge of the E in LOVED.
She loveD me.
And a million tiny regrets hitched that D to the E. Knocked a majestic word off balance. It’s why a piece of paper felt so heavy in my hands.
The note glowed Hemingway beige in the sunlight, yet appeared modernly cold in the glow of a device. It could turn romantically silver beneath a full moon, but was always blurry at Goodbye.
Edge by Pensitivity
There was no point in living. No-one cared and she was convinced she wouldn’t be missed.
She knew this road well, having travelled it practically every day for 4 years.
Each bend was a friend, beckoning her onward.
A mile ahead, a sharp left saved you from careering over the edge into the valley below.
Like her life, it was the edge of sanity or oblivion.
So easy to keep the wheel steady and straight.
She pondered. Is this all she was worth?
And that one word made her turn and follow the road.
He was not worth her life.
Flash Fiction by Old Jules
He stretched his big toe as far forward as he could without stumbling, feeling for the oblivion he knew waited in the darkness. Nothing. He strained his mind listening to the tip of that toe. And felt only the soft movement of what? What is that?
Behind him the shopping cart with all his belongings rattled. “Hurry!” Her
Suddenly the toe touched something and screamed at him. “Back! Back!” He launched himself backward against the shopping cart and the weight of her. He heard her fall and tried to grip the cart.
The Edge of the Mind by Geoff Le Pard
Morgan threw down his cup. ‘Effing Nora, Logan.’
Logan’s eyebrows snapped up. ‘What?’
Morgan didn’t know where to start. How could he? Why would he?
It was like someone – something – had taken him over. He looked at his hand, knuckles draining, fingers curling. He saw a future: arm pulled back, surprise followed by fear then anger, a punch, a crunch, blood, noise, mayhem. He felt the impact, the way his hand was absorbed before the jolt of bone. Pain, different types of pain. Like an inevitable train wreck.
The edge of his rage disappeared and he sat. ‘Man.’
Gotcha! by Anurag Bakhshi
I saw her fall, almost in slow motion. I looked around, but everyone stood frozen. And in that moment, I realized that it was all up to me now.
Driven by sheer instinct, I dove towards her… and caught her inches from the ground. Overcome with emotions, I held her tight, as if I would never let her go. And then, with my eyes full of tears, I kissed her passionately.
She would always remain a very special ball to me, for catching her off that faint edge had pulled our cricket team back from the edge of defeat.
The Edge by Jack Schuyler
“I don’t know about this.” The fall looked a lot farther from up here, the dizzying drop looming and spinning as I peered over the edge.
“Come on Trevor, you can make that jump easy. You’ve done it a hundred times on the ground.” Dawson was right, but while his words of encouragement were filled with confidence, I couldn’t help but wonder why I was the one with my toes dangling over the gutter.
I looked to the far rooftop. This was a bad idea, but I couldn’t back down now. I bent my knees and flexed my legs.
The Edge by Kim Blades
She scrabbled to grip the edge of the steep cliff. Pebbles and stones, loosened by her shoe-clad feet; skittered rapidly down the steep, rocky slope. She didn’t look down the hundred foot drop. If she did, pure vertigo would cause her to let go. As it was, only her bloodied fingers curled tightly around gnarled roots that jutted out of the cliff face; were stopping her from falling to certain death.
There was no one around to help her.
Would her own upper body strength and the tough roots be enough to pull her back up over the edge?
If Only by Susan Sleggs
Her father worked evenings. That was good. She rarely had to be alone with him.
Getting off the school bus she checked the drive. He was home. Damn!
He would expect her to walk around naked so he could ogle and touch her.
Her mother was buried, no longer a wedge of protection. No siblings.
She stood there, on the edge; go in or not.
She backed away, fishing for her cell phone. She touched the only safe number.
“Dad’s home, therefore drunk. Can you come get me?”
Waiting, she decided to stick with the lie, he gets mean.
The Outside Limit by Shari Marshall
Often I can feel it poised at the tip of my toes, that deep dark abyss. Never a fissure that those around me can see until I plunge over the side in a free fall of my own, balance lost as I grapple in a violent confrontation with unseen demons. The twist and twine of their tendrils strive to engulf me like hungry algae desperate to claim the swimmer. It is in this place farthest away from the centre of myself, lost in the darkness by the edge that the ghosts become more then mysterious silhouettes or murky shadows…
The Abyss by Sarah
I stood on the precipice and looked into the abyss below. My knees quivered and my stomach flipped, as my body struggled to anchor itself to the sanctuary of land. I forced myself to confront the yawning darkness and felt the fear take hold.
One move, I thought, and that would be it. Gone.
I didn’t know what terrified me more – the thought of staying? Keeping myself on solid ground and dealing with the crap that lay ahead. Or how tempted I was to just let go? Let myself fall off again.
I sighed, and put the bottle down.
Edge by Ritu Bhathal
“It feels like I’m standing on a knife edge, and I don’t know which way to fall…” Lucy carried on.
“On one side there is familiarity, there are constraints, there’s suspicion, there is the happiness of being part of ‘us’.
On the other, a different way of living, emptiness, the possibility of freedom, not being judged, there’s just me.”
Dr Jones looked at his patient, surprised by the depth of her words. As her therapist, it was his job to listen, and guide her… but did he want to be the one to push her one way or another?
Unconditional by Reena Saxeena
Entering college was such a liberating moment. His childhood had not been smooth. His father was an army officer, known for his love of discipline. It reflected in the manner he treated his children. They were spanked for the slightest breach of discipline. Their mother watched them with helpless sympathy.
Then, dawned the day, that would change his life forever. He stood in the hospital lobby, with his newborn son in his arms, tears streaming down his cheeks. How quaint was this emotion of unconditional love! It was all- encompassing. He silently vowed to be an exemplary father.
The Fall by Neel Anil Panicker
The climb up the steps, all fourteen floors of it, was a drain.
After a while, his lungs still gasping for breath, his head a wobbly ball, he opened his eyes and gazed down.
There is a certain serenity in heights, he concurred.
The city lights were a distant blur that skirted in and out of byzantine thoroughfares.
The flotsam and getsam of life.
He had had enough of it.
It was time to bid adieu.
The phone rang. He knew who it was. The thought broke his reverie.
Also brought him back from the edge.
Tomorrow’s another day.
Who Are We by FloridaBorne
We tear apart the strands of a thousand lives, gleaning insight from friends, family and strangers.
Merging faces, personalities, experiences, we re-imagine their stories.
We sit on the precipice between space and time, living the movies called “our dreams,” stories refusing to sleep.
Awakening at all hours, we become slaves to our compulsion as our fingers dance out a tale our minds cannot stop spinning.
Exhausted, we touch the edge of insanity’s hypnotic flame, teasing fate.
We live in multiple worlds, brought back to this one through senses and necessity. Some survive the transition, others cannot.
We are writers.
Beyond the Fringe by Ann Edall-Robson
The edge. I dare not go over, for I might fall. Would it be so bad? Perhaps not. The currents lifting me higher, the dips, the dives, floating through and beyond. Solitude capturing moments. Beliefs shattered, staggering. The turn of events snagged in a millisecond to save the experience. Climbing, ever climbing, again. The journey continues until the edge appears, foreboding, challenging, gut-wrenching stamina to the end. Exhaustion. Numb mind thoughts settle passively taking steps to the fringe. Outside the comfort, hold on to your being. Unravel the dream, past the stars and beyond. Publish the damn book!
The Edge by Norah Colvin
She stood at the edge of the abyss and wondered what would happen should she jump – would she fly, or would she plummet to the bottom and rest, fractured and alone, forgotten and abandoned, with all the others who dared to try but failed. It was fear that held her back, chained her to the ledge. But there was nowhere else to go. She’d tried all other paths. This was all that remained. Could she stay there forever? Would there be a point? What if she fell? But what if she flew? She inhaled, closed her eyes, and jumped…
The Real Illusion by Chelsea Owens
Her nightdress billows in moving mists of rainbows; toes curl precariously over cloudforms.
She cannot see, so closes her eyes.
And now, appears the wooden bridge. It skips across to the sandy seashore
-the shore outside a castle’s wall
-whereat lies a fearsome dragon, curling smoky out-breaths in the sun.
A shining knight advances, drawing schlinking steel to fight the fiery, glinting, scalesome beast.
“Oh, dear,” cries Princess, from above. Her swooping scarf-hat trails the crumbling window ledge.
The nightdressed girl smiles, treading where adults fear. She perches, perfectly happy, at the cliffside edge of fantasy.
Contemplating Edges by D. Avery
Seeking Earth’s edges, pressing on, thrusting ahead, seeking new frontiers, always further on.
Westward expansion told as a flexible line; looping progression across the map page, across the ages, across the ever-changing landscape. Edges reached, breached and surpassed. Shoreline, rivers, mountain ranges, seas of grass, mountain ranges, deserts, rivers, shoreline; compressed, flattened, documented.
Whose country tis of thee?
Edges of encounter; that line of expansion entangling, ensnaring, diminishing, destroying; slicing the multifaceted beauty of each encountered edge, razing cultures, razing ecosystems.
If only edges were navigated as holy spaces of contemplation, opportunities for true expansion, precipitant of Potential.
Beyond the Edge of the World by Anne Goodwin
We patrolled the Edge, scanning for intruders scrambling up the scarp. In summer sun, our boots scraped the surface of our path to sand; in winter rain it turned to mud. We built our homes from gritstone boulders; we chiselled millstones from our native rocks. When heather bloomed, we’d feast on bilberries; we’d spot the wild mountain hare when snow began to melt. Our land provided all we needed, and yet …
“What’s down there, Grandpa? Is there life below the Edge?”
“Don’t go mixing with them Limestone people. They’s not like us.”
To the Edge by Rebecca Glaessner
“Due end of week,” she said.
I accepted the file transfer.
“Check in on the dome too, yeah?”
“Or we’ll all die?”
“Cold,” she said, her aug profile smirking.
“Mars is colder.”
“Answers for everything.”
“This trip wouldn’t work without me,” I said.
“Don’t be so sure.”
We ended comms.
I stared at my screen.
With a flick, I opened an isolated program and equipped a headset.
“Activate,” I said.
My private quarters morphed into the landscape of a digital alien world. Starships, exotic forests, grand ocean cities.
Reality wouldn’t send me over the edge just yet.
The Lesson by Anthony Amore
My grandfather’s basement smells of clean, damp concrete despite it being poured in 1963. Fishing through some containers on the neatly organized upper shelves of his workbench, he pulls a leather pouch out of a Hills Brothers coffee can. I sit on a metal stool’s edge beneath a shimmering fluorescent shop light.
He holds the knife to the light, examining. It gleams. “Keep it safe, clean and sharp,” he instructs, pressing the fat of this thumb directly against the blade. “Only a dull blade will ever cut you.” He winks, “Don’t tell your father.”
The Edge by Ben (aka Pipe Tobacco)
He was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, holding the hand of the old man.
“If you allow them to give you the antibiotic, you might get well.”
Tears brimmed in his eyes, and an errant one overflowed and quietly rolled down his cheek into his beard. The old man was in the midst of his fourth battle with sepsis in as many months.
“No, no more.” said the old man in a barely audible voice.
He turned his face away from the old man so he would not see additional tears flow.
The end is here.
Tip of the Tongue… A Different Edge by JulesPaige
Cora had been on the edge of a deep restorative sleep –
then dreamed of betrayal. Was she really feeling sorry for
herself? Was she insecure or suspicious of something or
Perhaps learning to say no to things that no longer interested
her had some drawbacks. Less of a public face for others to
say insincerely when meeting; “How are you?” Because you
really didn’t want to answer them or even ask them the same
Cora had met Mrs. X at the grocers, yesterday. Fifteen years
was a long time to remember the name of a distant acquaintance.
Night Visions by Bill Engleson
In the middle of the night, the thought swirls to the surface of his awareness.
Eyelids crack open.
Fear, like a large dark suffocating stain, crushes in.
Sharp stilettos of pain sting his chest.
He rolls over, slips close to the edge of the bed.
A pillow bolts, disappears in space.
His head dangles over.
Blood rushes to his eyes;
A true guillotine moment…
Watchful eyes, piercing, bright, gawk up at him.
“Could be the cat,” he considers.
Two sets of eyes gape up.
“Could be I’m seeing double,” he considers.
“Could just be.”
Edge by Floating Gold
Jack got out of the car and ran full speed ahead, until he reached the edge of a cliff. The ocean’s stormy waters continuously slammed against the rocks below him. The frantic wind whistled in the distance before enveloping him in a cocoon of autumn leaves. He looked at the sky and saw the fast approaching rain clouds. A single tear rolled down his cheek before the sky opened up. Jack fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands. What was he going to do next? Even God was angry with him now.
Barely Hanging On by Heather Gonzalez
Jeff was slowly getting used to spending his Saturday mornings driving to his soon to be ex-wife’s house to pick up their kids. The drive was just enough time to build up the courage to smile when he got there.
The thoughts of all that he had lost due to being selfish consumed him as he drove. He had driven this route many times but somehow forgot how sharp that last curve was. It all happened so fast. His car was hanging on the edge. Before it fell, he sent one single text to his wife, “I am sorry.”
Grounding (From Miracle of Ducks) by Charli MIlls
Too late for planting tomatoes, Danni seeded more radishes. Ike complained they bit back, but if he left for Iraq what did it matter? She’d eat spicy radishes alone.
She kneeled along the row, tamping each seed. The earth felt solid beneath her hands. With no more seeds to cover, Danni dug into the ground that remained unplanted. Sifting loamy earth through her fingers she found a marble. She rolled the green glass in her palm.
If it was Ike’s decision and she was to stay home, why did she feel pitched over the edge into an unknown future?
The Edge by Eric Pone
“Oh Jesussssss ahhhhh!!”Mary seethed through her lips as Ginger removed two of rounds lodge firmly in her liver.
“Hold still dear…OK Ono I am suturing.” pronounced their medic.
“I’m gonna pass out now.” And with that Maryann passed out.
Ginger grabbed her load out kit pissed, “I really liked this place.”
“We’ll find you a new place Ginger.” Ono reassured her opening the back door.
“We’ll need a plane.” Ginger quipped
“We’ll get a really nice plane.” Ono replied half smiling meaning trouble ahead.
Ono observed the clock. Where were Ducky and Eowyn? Time was of the essence.
The Edge by Kerry E.B. Black
Julia’s life balanced on a silvery precipice, its sharp cleavage pressed to her throat. Its wielder clasped a bruising hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming. As the blade cut into delicate skin, Julia pushed into the knifeman’s chest to escape its bite.
His voice rumbled, an avalanche of fear in tenor. “Stay back.”
Julia’s husband, palms outstretched in supplication, stopping inching toward them. “Alright, but let her go.”
A tiny blood rivulet escaped its confines and tickled to her collarbone. Julia held her breath, lest movement might cause a deeper cut.
“Can’t. She’s coming with me.”
Edge by Dan C Julian
Remy’s eyes swam slightly as he cast a long look down at the several tall cylindrical stacks of ‘nickel’ chips situated between the highball glass in his right hand and the ashtray over which his left hovered with a lit menthol. At five dollars per chip, he had to be sitting on almost five hundred dollars. He’d started with one-fifty. A few hours of conservative play had gotten him to this moment, the kind of roulette moment Remy lived for. The last six numbers had been odd reds. The next spin was bound to be even, black, or both…
Edge by Deb Whittam
Annoyed he rubbed his head endeavouring to clear the clouds which fogged his concentration. He had come here to escape the pressure but in the solitude it seemed intensified. Picking up the documents, he tried to be rational, emotionally distant – but this wasn’t the reality.
Stay or go – there was no easy choice.
Frustrated he delved into his pocket, smiling as he drew the coin. Let fate decide. He tossed it aloft with a triumphant shout, watching mesmerized as it spun and then as it landed he let out a sob.
It sat perfectly balanced on its edge.
Breaking Point by Jordan Corely
“I need more time,” I shrieked at the machine.
Three more minutes.
“Noo, no, no.” I laced my fingers behind my head and began pacing around the room.
“Think Lacey, think.” I started bouncing on my toes.
“Alright, just breathe, you can do this.”
Two more minutes.
“Okay, it can’t be that hard, right? Calm down. Focus”
One more minute.
“This must be it. There can’t be any other answer.”
“Right? This is it?”
“Please, just tell me if I’m right!”
Endless Edge by Elliott Lyngreen
I just awoke from another one of those dreams. One of those seamless to an infinite edge. Never separating. An endless edge.
Happens every time. Sometimes in a car. We go around the rocky bend. The vehicle turns, slides off the mountain side. (Someone is with me? Not always.) We are still turning off the edge.
Sometimes it is a staircase. From the top I can see the bottom. So, I jump. Challenging me, the leap clears the steps only in thoughts. They always increase. The length down, to the bottom, expands. We are still soaring towards the below.
Edge by Robbie Cheadle
The gentle slope at the top of the cliff suddenly plunged down to the sea below. White tipped waves boiled over the rocks that poked up like blunt knives.
The small girl spotted a bright blue flower halfway down the slope. She was carefully climbing down towards the flower, holding on to an overhanging vine, when its root gave way. She felt herself rolling towards the edge of the drop and grabbed out at a small plant growing nearby. It held. She carefully climbed up the slope using plants and embedded rocks as foot and hand holds.
Numb and Humbled by JulesPaige
Maui has a multitude of atmospheres. The edges are not
clearly defined. Waterfalls create their own edges from
some of the coldest water. I may have dipped in Alelele Falls.
The smooth black rocks on the bottom of the little pool were
hard knots on my bare feet. I was bound and determined to
submerge into this mostly calm scene. There were a few
others drawn to the majesty of the eighty foot drop, only a ten
minute walk from an almost hidden entry point.
I got in up to my neck. I felt freezer burned, a different
Horizon by Denise Aileen DeVries
One sunny day, Myra Jean walked the mile and half to the boat basin at the edge of town, just for a glimpse of the Bay. It was a pleasant walk, and it gave her time to think. On the brink of old age, she still had years to fill, with no way back to Baltimore or her youth. Skirting the noisy activity on the dock, she stepped over discarded shells to the reach the place where water lapped the marsh grass. Finally, she could see the horizon, that misty meeting of water and sky, inscrutable as her future.
The Edge by Pheobe Greathouse
She drifts in the watery blue looking down at the ocean floor. Below is a swaying forest of seagrasses. The shallow water is warm from the sun, too warm to be inviting. She seeks a refreshing swim, a cold plunge into deep dark water.
Years before a channel was cut from the coral floor to allow large ships to navigate the treacherous shallows surrounding the island. Thirty feet deep, she floats over the descending wall of the edge. There is a sensation of falling over a cliff into blackness. Too cold, too deep, today she stays in the boat.
Dimensional Kid by D. Avery
“Ain’t seen ya lately, Kid.”
“Couldn’t find my dang boots last week.”
“Yer still edgy over it?”
“Don’t push me, Pal, I’m right close to the edge.”
“I’m sure somethin’ll surface this week.”
“Jest it, I’m confused. A certain someone says an edge is a line segment where two surfaces meet.”
“That sounds sharp, Kid. That straight talk?”
“I dunno, you do the math. See, I been ponderin’ on edges bein’ places, gotten to in round about ways; times or spaces of transition, betwixt and between. Whatdaya think?”
“Ta me it’s neither here nor there.”
“Exactly! A becoming place.”