by Darlene Guetre
In the beginning there was nothing except the regular boom of waves on the rocky Newfoundland shore and black-crowned white-bodied murres in noisy colonies who quarreled with deep guttural growls that echoed amongst rock ledges. Julian crept to the cliff edge and watched awestruck as roller after roller swept in from an endless cold gray ocean expanse. It would be easy to plunge into this nothingness, a desolation that has existed since time immemorial, where no pain exists. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled until his diaphragm felt sucked against his spine and lifted his right foot. It occurred to Julian his inevitable howl of despair as he hurtled into space would frighten the murres to ruin the utter timelessness ritual of bird and ocean. In the end, he opened his eyes, exhaled and stepped back with mortal care from the cliff edge.
Darlene Guetre is attempting to create a living from freelance writing and writes flash fiction to convince herself she's a writer.