He was going to live. He was going to live life as it was meant to be lived. Looking forward. Not back.
He turned and the cliff gave way under his feet. The rock crumbled and he slipped. Not far. But he grabbed the grass. The rock crumbled again under his feet.
He had tight hold of the grass above where his head was resting. His feet were scrambling on the crumbling cliff trying to gain a foothold....
No point shouting for help. He'd chosen the quietest part of the coastline at the quietest time of night. He hadn't wanted anyone to see. To try and talk him out of it.
He pulled at the grass by his head, trying to drag himself up. Slowly....so as not to tear the grass out by its roots.
He pushed his foot against the rock. He had a small foothold. Gingerly he put more weight on it. He was going to make it. He knew. He moved his other foot. Slightly higher. Inches at a time.
He quickly moved his hand, grabbing a piece of grass further up.
Yes!
Nearly there.
