A Loving Fall

By Annabelle Reynolds

Inspired by Isabelle

Edited by Emma, Isabelle

My name is Sammy. Let me tell you a tale of the most terrifying, yet wonderful, experience of my life. I was ten years old and had started to realize I was uncomfortable in my body. My brother was very supportive when I told him, but he didn't really understand. Honestly, I didn't understand. My parents died when I was a baby, so they couldn't help me. Their ship sank off the coast of our island. While their bodies were never found, we still had graves set up for them in the graveyard. Often, I went there to talk to the mother I never knew. After the funeral, my brother raised me, being 18 at the time. This day I leaned against my father's grave looking towards my mother's.

"Hi mom." The sadness and uncertainty creeped into my voice. "I don't know whats wrong with me, but I don't feel like a boy."

As I talked, I started to feel a bit of pain in my ribs. I pushed it aside. I shouldn't have.

"I like what the girls in the village wear," the pain intensified, "I like the way it looks," I winced in pain, "and it feels so much softer than my boy clothes." I pause briefly, rubbing the sore spot. "Mom, I think I'm supposed to be a girl."

The moment the words left my mouth, it felt like a knife was jammed into my back. I gasped sharply. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't call out for help. I stood up and stumbled back to the village, the pain intensifying. The trail to and from the graveyard wound around a cliff face. It was wide enough for a coffin to be carried without falling so rails were not built. After that night I wished that they were. I used the cliff face to support me as I stumbled. As I turned the corner the pain intensified so badly, so suddenly, that I saw stars. I fell over. As I fell, I hit my head on a rock. I must have been knocked out, because when I awoke, I was washed up on a boulder that sat under the path. I was lucky I missed the rocks when I fell, but I hurt all over. When I crawled further up the boulder I collapsed under my own weight. It seemed I had broken my arm somehow. It was late. I knew that Krys would be looking for me soon but was scared he wouldn't find me here. Hours went by, then days. After the third day, I was starving, thirsty. I couldn't speak, and my arm was all shades of black and blue. I was sure I was going to die when I heard my brother above.

"I found blood!" I heard him yell. "He must be nearby." After a couple minutes I saw his face appear over the cliff side. "Hold on Sammy, we will be there soon."

I heard more talking but couldn't make out what was said. As I waited, growing tired, I focused on my brother's voice to stay awake. Suddenly a green, misty face appeared in the rock face in front of me. I tried to scream but couldn't. The pain in my side started to return. I looked down and saw the figure had reached out and its hand was buried in my side. Its mouth moved, and I barely heard what it said over the pounding in my ears and the crashing of waves on the rocks around me.

"You will die here abomination." Its voice was ethereal and menacing. I knew that it was telling me the truth. I was too tired to resist, too hungry. I started to cry. Suddenly, from out in the sea, a cloud of blue mist rushed in, separating the figure from me. The pain vanished. The mists wrapped around each other, blue gaining prominence, then green. Suddenly, a melodic voice rang out from within the green mist.

"LEAVE MY DAUGHTER ALONE!"

The green mist swelled and finally exploded in all directions. I shielded my face as best I could and felt fear and anger wash over me before starting to dissipate. When I lowered my arm, I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She smiled warmly at me and brushed my cheek with her glowing blue hand. I felt the fear and pain vanish entirely, replaced with love and acceptance. She smiled at me. She dissipated, only to be replaced with another face, a face clouded with anxiety and worry.

"I got you love," Krys said, using his pet name for me. "I got you"

"Did you see her," I asked weakly.

"See who?"

"The angel."

"No one was here Sammy."

I swore for months I had seen a woman save me. I told my story in as much detail as I could, but everyone just wrote it off as my imagination playing tricks on me and the concussion I sustained. After a while, I stopped talking about it. I started dressing in girls clothing shortly after I healed. The village slowly came around and eventually accepted me. They even threw a small party in my honor one day. After two years passed by, there was a purge of objects that represented hate and bigotry. Mainly, it was scrolls on conformity and one painting. When I saw it, I felt an old pain again. When I asked who it was, I was told it was Stadry Kale. My research led me to find out that he led something of a witch hunt, eliminating those he felt were a threat to his idea of conformity. He died 40 years earlier, falling from the same cliff I did. I was glad that his writings were tossed so that no one like me would feel that fear again. I never saw that angel again, but knew one thing irrefutably: my mother would be watching over me for the rest of time.