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His feet weren't going where he told them too! ! ! It was cold, so cold, and even though he knew where he was going, an advantage over most, he couldn't shake off the morbid feeling of doom, no matter how hard he tried. Guns were sounding in the distance, and although he was well away from the fighting, he was panicking. Amidst the feelings of doom and panic, he was confused. It wasn't even this bad on the front line! ! Why was he feeling this way?
Was his gut telling him the truth? As if out of nowhere, a man dropped out of the tree above him in a shower of leaves and twigs, and with an evil grin, blew him up. The old man sat up in his bed, waking with a start. For a moment, he was slightly disorientated. The adrenalin was still coursing through his body like a fire out of control.
With a few breaths, he tried to calm himself. The old dream, he thought. I will never forget it, it will never let me out of its steely indifferent grasp. The veteran, who went by the name of David, was an old man now.
His youth had deserted him, the war had aged him. He couldn't fight the dreams like he used to. But he did have wisdom and experience on his side, though he was hard-pressed to figure out how that could help. He cast around for another subject. His mother's mother was Welsh.
His mother had brought him up Welsh, her name for him had been 'Daffyd'. He wondered why he remembered that. He was confused, he didn't know what he was feeling or why. He shook his head, and with some small sense of purpose, climbed out of bed.
He had decided to walk down to the beach, which was only a street away, to clear his head. He knew not why he would do this, his worst memories were of a beach. He figured he was 'confronting his fears' like they do in the stories. It could work, stranger things had happened. David reached the beach, and made his way to the cliff that he had always loved as a little boy. This was his home, where he had grown upm where he had laughed, played, and where his mother had died.
All because of him. He shuddered, trying not to think about it. He sat down on the mossy grass, and remembered. The wind tugged at the small, tousle haired child. He ran the lenght of the beach and climbed the cliff that towered over the whole beach, his favourite spot to be alone. "Daffyd!" his mother called "Daffyd, get down from there!" But the boy took no notice. Why did she call him Daffyd anyway? "Daffyd, I know you can hear me!" The cliff was very high, and David like to climb it the dangerous way, instead of using the steps on the other side.
No, he liked danger. When he reached the top, he sat there with his legs dangling over the precise, and called to his mother. "Come up here! I won't come down until you do!" So, his mother, smiling, joined him on the top of the cliff. "Come on, I'll show you!" her son said. Seeing the excitement in his eyes, she followed. David led her to the edge. His mother looked out, and he could sense the wonder in her.
She hugged him too her. Suddenly, the wind picked up and David's mother was thrown off balance. She staggered a few paces and fell down the cliff screaming the whole way, to meet her death below. But not before David saw what was in her eyes. Love, fear, and something else he didn't recognise until now.
Acceptance. David yelled and reached for his mother. He opened his eyes and found himself looking down the clif's where his mother had died, 80 years before. He screamed for the child who had spent his entire growing life in the care of his too-old grandparents, for his mother who had been betrayed by her son, for the lost opportunities of his whole family.
When he was calm again, or relatively so, he looked down the cliff, as though weighing something up. He smiled, tears running down his face, shown the path by the wrinkles on his face. He threw himself over the cliff, caressed by the wind, laughing and crying the whole way down.
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Research essay sample on Mother Had Died Cliff
