The Halferne Incubus

The fish were yellow, though she remembered them being a less-realistic purple the last time she was there. A cool mist of water played across her face as she sat on the rocky banks of the raging river. The roar of the great falls surrounded her, filled her ears, and consumed her in white noise for a moment as she surrendered to the serenity of isolation. Wiping her clammy hands on her blouse, she stood and walked along the narrow rock wall toward the cliff's edge. The noise grew louder still, a siren's call drowning her senses in seductive euphoria.

Her muscles relaxed, her breathing slowed, and her steps found a rhythmic sync with the crescendo of her heartbeat. The wet, uneven surface caused her bare foot to slip as she got too close to the waterline, and the sudden adrenaline rush instantaneously cut off the trance-like sensation. In a panic, she caught herself, avoiding the tumble into certain death at the hands of nature's mighty spectacle.

Not yet, she thought.

She slowed her breathing and willed herself to relax again, and after a few moments, the feeling of lightness returned. Perching on her hands and knees, she peered over the cliff's edge to a vast blue-green ocean half a mile below. From this vantage point, the water appeared still and unmoving -- beautiful simplicity juxtaposed against the cacophony of the harsh, rocky rapids of the cliff top. The endless flatness of the horizon made it seem as if this was the edge of the world -- or possibly a gateway to a different one. It called to her. She answered it. Legs straightened themselves, raising her upright to face the ocean before her. Arms reached out, helping her find her point of balance. Lungs inhaled, refreshing her with a deep breath of cold, damp air. Eyes closed, allowing her to fall forward without fear into the waterfall's mist.

She flew.

The sensation was completely natural, not unlike swimming. With the simple force of will, she floated gently from the clifftop toward the ocean below, occasionally soaring back up or off to one side -- just to assure herself that she was in command of her course. Satisfied, she scoffed at the immutable laws of gravity, pitched herself into an upward roll, and turned to look back in wonder at the endless cascade of water. Her arms fell limp as she gently kicked her feet in a scissor-like motion, increasing her momentum away from the cliff and down the sandy shoreline. A rainbow formed before her, its colors vivid against the milky white foam of the shore behind it. She sailed silently through it.

As her natural inertia slowed to a near stop, she rolled over, angled her torso downward, and dove sharply towards the ocean's surface, picking up more and more speed as the roiling waters rushed up to meet her. She leveled out a few meters from the cresting waves and sailed along the beach for another two miles. White sand and palm trees passed underneath her as the roar of the falls became little more than a soft exhale that eventually died, replaced by the gentle hiss of wind rustling through leaves, the thrumming rhythm of waves on the shore, and the staccato song of birds in the distance. A particularly beautiful glade rolled into view. She shifted her weight to sail towards it, righting herself to slow her momentum. A carpet of dew-soaked wildflower petals rose to meet her. She touched down, stopping herself with three running steps, then collapsed, rolling onto her back and digging her fingers into the dirt.

She lay there for a long time, the noonday sun warming her face and drying her clothes. Her mind emptied. At last, none of it mattered anymore. Serah Wiles: the quiet one. Serah Wiles: the nobody. Serah Wiles: the sensible one who always played it safe. Serah Wiles: the boring one that nothing ever happened to. Carefree birds flew inland overhead. She marveled at the vivid display of colors and studied the myriad songs -- so many varieties, each engaged in their unique dance.

Without warning, the birds grew silent, reversed their course, and sped back toward the ocean. A sudden scream of panic erupted from deep within the grove, cutting sharply through her tranquility. The meadow grew silent as the echo died. She sat up and peered into the dense thicket of trees, now unnaturally quiet. Leaves rustled deep within the thicket, headed directly toward her in the clearing. Seconds later, an elderly man emerged from the tree line and continued running across the glade in her direction. His movement was far spryer than seemed natural for a man of his years.