Hell's Mouth (criticism welcome :) )

[RachelLS]

This is a piece I'm currently working on. Hell's Mouth is actually a cliff near where I used to live, and many people who go dog walking up there are whisked off the side by the strong winds.)

You used to watch me play in the garden; watch me cover myself in dirt and let me paint the pathway in chalk. If I fell over you’d watch me get up. If I cried you’d tell me to stop. When he was down the mines you were digging your own, pulling copper and tin from my chest. You’d dig out everything that was useful while throwing out the rubble.

But then he died. They couldn’t even dig him out. He could have been trapped down there, thumping on the earth, digging for something worth more than metal. A little canary trapped in a cage singing while the air crumbled around him. I wonder how long he sang?

When I try to remember your face, all I can picture are flowers. Sunflowers, daffodils, daisies; bright and unyielding, barring my way from seeing your sweet features. They’re all I can smell, see; touch. I can picture your body, slim, aproned and blue; sky blue. All mothers are coloured in blue. It seems a more appropriate colour than pink. Pink is for girls, blue is for women. Blue is for mothers.

I keep having the same dream over and over. You’ll be there, slim, blue and beautiful, standing on the edge of Hell’s Mouth, looking out to sea; your blue form contrasting with the black and grey sky. The tufts of long rusty coloured grass and the thick clumps of dark thistles shake violently, struggling against the teeth-stinging wind. Small broken pieces of white and brown stone tumble down the side of the cliff soundlessly, unable to avoid joining the ocean’s bed. The wind invades my ears, pulls at my clothes and tugs the warmth out of my skin; yet you stand there tranquil. Your clothes are still, draped limply as though there’s no wind at all. All that you give to the wind is your hair, long and dark and it whips around like an entity of its own, clawing, dancing and thrashing as though trying to reach the dark sky. You turn to me and I know you’re smiling, beckoning me to join you. But I can’t see your face because of the flowers and I can’t move and I can already taste sea water frothing in the back of my mouth.

I watch you throw yourself into Hell’s Mouth; into my father’s arms. I run forward to scan the rocks. You’re gone; I didn’t even see your blue body break the water. For the sea is already broken, spilling up the cliff’s walls, trying to scrape its way up the stone. The water will erode the cliff over time. I wish the same could be said about the dream.

You should have carried on singing for him; you should have carried on singing for me. Now your lungs are full of salt and seaweed.

[laurelverse]

That is beautiful.  The imagery that came to mind was vivid and left me full of questions about who the characters are and what got them to that place.  It made me think of the old ballads about the selkie, something near and dear to my heart.