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Description
I am perched on the brink of a huge cliff, an overhang above the sea. As I stand, the smell of the sea rises to greet me; salt, fish, and fathomless depth. It welcomes me, wrapping me like a blanket, a protection against the world’s violence and hate... a much better protection than the worn rag that serves me as a blanket that is wrapped around my shoulders.

I wish that I could simply jump off into the cool blue water, grow fins, and swim away, never to come back. Suddenly the urge grows too strong, and I must turn away, for if I were to jump, there would be no magical transformation for me, no miraculously appearing fins or flippers. Only death, death on the sharp rocks below me. I turn, and wince in pain. A terrible gash, never properly healed, across my left shoulder throbs. Every time I move, white scar tissue pulls painfully. As I walk back to the tiny weather-beaten shack I call home, I sniff the air again. Yes, all the sea smells are there, but there’s something else. As I inhale the brisk morning air, a shiver runs down my spine. The wind brings the odour of something alien. It almost smells like magic.

Before I know what I’m doing, I whirl around, and run to the cliff. Without even a moment’s hesitation, I leap off. The scraggly blanket around my shoulders comes untied as I jump. The blanket and I both seem to hover in the air for a moment, then both begin to fall towards the surface of the sea.

Near by, a lone fisherman sees, out of the corner of his eye, something plummeting from the cliff to the water below. Concerned, he heads over in his boat. But when he gets there, all he can see is a sodden blanket slowly sinking to the depths, and a grey dolphin, with a scar across its left shoulder leaping away through the waves. With a shake of his grizzled, greying head, and a muttered comment about too much sun, he turns his boat, and heads back to shore for a coffee.

Description
I am perched on the brink of a huge cliff, an overhang above the sea. As I stand, the smell of the sea rises to greet me; salt, fish, and fathomless depth. It welcomes me, wrapping me like a blanket, a protection against the world’s violence and hate... a much better protection than the worn rag that serves me as a blanket that is wrapped around my shoulders.

I wish that I could simply jump off into the cool blue water, grow fins, and swim away, never to come back. Suddenly the urge grows too strong, and I must turn away, for if I were to jump, there would be no magical transformation for me, no miraculously appearing fins or flippers. Only death, death on the sharp rocks below me. I turn, and wince in pain. A terrible gash, never properly healed, across my left shoulder throbs. Every time I move, white scar tissue pulls painfully. As I walk back to the tiny weather-beaten shack I call home, I sniff the air again. Yes, all the sea smells are there, but there’s something else. As I inhale the brisk morning air, a shiver runs down my spine. The wind brings the odour of something alien. It almost smells like magic.

Before I know what I’m doing, I whirl around, and run to the cliff. Without even a moment’s hesitation, I leap off. The scraggly blanket around my shoulders comes untied as I jump. The blanket and I both seem to hover in the air for a moment, then both begin to fall towards the surface of the sea.

Near by, a lone fisherman sees, out of the corner of his eye, something plummeting from the cliff to the water below. Concerned, he heads over in his boat. But when he gets there, all he can see is a sodden blanket slowly sinking to the depths, and a grey dolphin, with a scar across its left shoulder leaping away through the waves. With a shake of his grizzled, greying head, and a muttered comment about too much sun, he turns his boat, and heads back to shore for a coffee.