The Metamorphisis
Essay by cyara123 • September 12, 2011 • Essay • 384 Words (2 Pages) • 1,091 Views
There I was. Standing, breathing, but no longer living. Hopeless. The emptiness I felt went far beyond the depths of my soul. I let it encompass me; my will to fight was long gone and my last ounces of strength were dwindling. One last glimpse at the awaiting cliffs was all it took. Their arms were calling my name, welcoming me into their comforting caress. A single leap would do it. I could taste the bitterness of the enveloping darkness. The crisp air whipped my face, but I did not feel any pain. Death had summoned me, and I was willing to let it swallow me with its unending hunger.
But its hunger ceased and its arms withdrew. Fear struck me like an arrow through the soul. The emptiness had escaped through the crevasses of my pores and panic had taken its place. What am I doing? I could feel my heart pounding with the speed of a jet engine. The wind was painfully lashing at my body. Life had returned to my corpse and I wanted nothing more than to walk away from my presumed death. Hope. The metamorphosis was inevitable.
There I was. Standing, breathing, but no longer living. Hopeless. The emptiness I felt went far beyond the depths of my soul. I let it encompass me; my will to fight was long gone and my last ounces of strength were dwindling. One last glimpse at the awaiting cliffs was all it took. Their arms were calling my name, welcoming me into their comforting caress. A single leap would do it. I could taste the bitterness of the enveloping darkness. The crisp air whipped my face, but I did not feel any pain. Death had summoned me, and I was willing to let it swallow me with its unending hunger.
But its hunger ceased and its arms withdrew. Fear struck me like an arrow through the soul. The emptiness had escaped through the crevasses of my pores and panic had taken its place. What am I doing? I could feel my heart pounding with the speed of a jet engine. The wind was painfully lashing at my body. Life had returned to my corpse and I wanted nothing more than to walk away from my presumed death. Hope. The metamorphosis was inevitable.
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