Despite the fact that the three of them were watching me, I squinted.

I inched my feet towards the edge and some of the looser rocks fell away from the cliff face, shattering onto the boulders below. That was a decent enough reason to shut my eyes. I kept them closed, not because I wanted to shut out the fear, but because I wanted to pay attention to its source. My feet were sending signals to my legs, telling them that standing on the edge of the cliff was a terrible idea. My stomach was sending similar signals to my brain and my arms refused to unhinge themselves from being wrapped around my stomach. It was obvious that my body was against the act of jumping into Stanton River. For these reasons, I started thinking about how I had found myself in this situation.

The four of us had drawn straws to decide the order for the leap into the river and I was the third to jump. Michael was first. His father regularly brought him down to this area of Greenvale, so it wasn’t too surprising that, within seconds of Charlie plucking the final stick out of Billy’s hands, Michael had pulled his white T-shirt over his head, thrown it on the ground and run towards the cliff’s edge. Without the slightest hesitation, he leapt, and we could feel the silence as he drifted through the air, his arms moving in tiny circles to help him maintain his posture. He fell for long enough that the three of us had time to make our way to one of the boulders and see him land in the water with as much confidence as he had jumped. The split second before he reappeared lasted an eternity, but the reward of seeing his grinning face break the surface of the water was worth it. He’d set a benchmark that the rest of us were going to find difficult to reach.

If anyone could reach it, however, it was Billy Coates. He was notorious for discovering the daring activity in an otherwise calm environment and he had a reputation for never backing down from a challenge. Charlie and I were still congratulating Michael through a series of war cries that echoed from one bank to the other as Billy cracked his knuckles and headed to the edge of the cliff. Charlie walked over to one of the boulders to help Michael climb his way back up the cliff face. Billy was looking down into the water without smiling while strands of his hair started flicking backwards and forwards in the breeze. He was scared. I’d never seen Billy be concerned about anything before, so I instantly started to feel my own fear building. I almost felt privileged to be one of the only people to see Billy Coates consider his actions so thoughtfully. By the time Michael joined us at the top, Billy was preparing for his run-up. He found his way to the edge in three giant steps and launched himself out from the cliff face. Just to show off, Billy completed a mid-air spin as he fell towards the water and, after landing safely, he resurfaced, laughing and mocking the next jumper.

There was no way I was going to run up like the other boys, so I stood close enough to the edge that my toes could still feel the ground and squinted. I only opened my eyes because Michael was mocking me, saying he was going to tell Amy Sandal that I was too chicken to jump. I responded that I had a much bigger chance of jumping off this cliff than he did talking to someone like her. He had a point, though. I didn’t want to jump. And, as I looked down into the water, a part of me thought that maybe Amy thinking I was chicken was the lesser of two evils. My heart jumped up into my throat when I saw a shadow move under the water. The water was crystal clear, so there was no doubt in my mind that something was there. It reminded me of a whale. A whale with wings instead of fins. I looked over at Billy, silently asking him if he had seen the same thing. He grinned knowingly and told me to stop being such a chicken.

I looked back down into the water and whatever was there was gone. I shrugged it off as clouds moving overhead, casting a shadow on the surface of the water. I was exhausted from being so scared anyway. I took a deep breath, bent my knees and set myself free from the constraints of the cliff.

Rocks cannot leap. They can fall.

One moment, they are spinning through the air, so light and unbound, descending for long enough to show you every shade of their mesmerising surfaces. And the next, they shatter with the most heinous of sounds, the force of the boulders below splitting them apart, separating them into smaller pieces. Fragments, they call them. Some fragments hit the jagged walls of the cliffs in a chorus of miniature thuds while other fragments are flung out and over the water, landing with the dance of one thousand splashes. Then, they sink. The darkness of the water enveloping them and sucking them under forever.

My heart. My heart is a rock.

Lucas Hervey. That’s who was responsible for Haley’s anger. How could he think that it would be funny to place two fingers behind Haley’s grandmother’s head as someone was taking a photo while the two of them painted? Frustrated, Haley moved out of her bed and onto the floor. Since her room was dark, she had to use her fingers to find the hiding place for the photo album, placing it down gently before moving back into her bed. Some of the guests honked their car horns as they were leaving Haley’s house and, once they had all left, Haley listened to the sounds of her parents tidying up the living area for a few moments before she drifted off into a deep sleep.

The crack in the window grabbed Haley’s attention the moment she stepped out of bed. She stood on her carpeted floor, wondering how it could have happened. Her mother knocked, and Haley glanced over her shoulder to smile at her when the door opened. Haley’s mother smiled back, but her smile disappeared when she looked up at the window above Haley’s bed. She walked over, stood behind Haley and placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. The two of them took a moment to silently observe the crack. Haley’s mother kept her hands on her daughter’s shoulders as she knelt down next to her. She whispered something into Haley’s ear. Haley nodded, took her bag down from the shelf and got as ready for her day at kindergarten as she could.

Three of the teachers at Haley’s kindergarten made a fuss over the necklace before Haley even had a chance to put her bag away on the shelf in the main room. She hugged her mother goodbye before walking outside. She was pleased to see her best friend, Samantha Cronin, waiting on the wooden seats underneath the large oak tree. Samantha and Haley spoke at length about the necklace before Haley told her what she had seen in her photo album. Samantha pointed towards the sandpit, and Haley nearly scowled when she saw Lucas Hervey enjoying himself playing dragons and princesses with three other children. Haley felt the anger rise again. The two girls watched Lucas as he ran towards some of the other students with a pretend sword he had made using a thick twig. Haley imagined Lucas running slower so that the dragons would have more time to run away. To Haley’s surprise, Lucas started slowing down, moving in slow motion through the air and unable to catch the dragons. Some of the other kindergarten students noticed what was happening as well and gathered around Lucas to watch him running in the most peculiar way. Haley decided to try another experiment, this time involving sand. Lots of sand.

All of the students watched as a giant pillar of sand swirled above Lucas’s head while he was still hovering in slow motion. Then, once Haley gave a nod, the entire pillar landed right on top of him, covering his feet in sand. Lucas looked angrier than he did shocked, but he certainly did not look like he was in control. Haley took some pride in being able to control Lucas like a puppet for what he had done, so the girls spent the next several minutes toying with Lucas: sending him down the slides backwards, encouraging him to juggle things that were impossible to juggle and, perhaps most fun of all, making him place two fingers behind his head to make himself look like a goofy bunny rabbit while the other students pointed at him and laughed. Haley was so caught up in seeking her playground revenge that Samantha had to place a hand on her shoulder to remind her to stop.

The kindergarten teachers didn’t let the students outside for a long time after all the commotion, so the students played with their toys or drew pictures. The rumours had started, however, and Haley knew that she would have to take greater care to prove to her mother that the necklace would only ever add to her newfound power.

The necklace made some of the guests feel as though the presents they had chosen for Haley’s fifth birthday were inadequate. Haley was sure to use her manners while opening her presents before dinner, but, from the moment she picked up the wooden box with the necklace inside, it was obvious that this present was particularly special. She ran her fingers over the edge of the envelope before taking out the card, being careful to keep the envelope intact. She asked her mother to read the beautifully handwritten message on the inside: To my dearest Haley, you are as lovely as a soft summer breeze and as radiant as the sunshine on a cloudy day. I hope this necklace will only add to your power. With love, Grandma. Haley closed her eyes as she felt her body become covered in goosebumps and a lump form in her throat. She opened them when her mother finished putting the necklace on and smiled nervously as everyone commented on how magnificent it made her look.

Two factors were behind Haley feeling courageous enough to ask her parents if she could be excused from her own party. Firstly, she felt ill at the thought of eating the pizza she vaguely remembered mentioning when her parents had asked her what she might like for her birthday dinner. Then there was the fact that the necklace was taking far too long to stop being the topic of conversation. Having braved her way through the third conversation about what the necklace meant to her, all Haley could think about was seeking refuge in the shelter of her bedroom. After a lengthy discussion, her parents agreed. She thanked each of her guests for coming and for their thoughtful presents, and, after collecting her presents and excusing herself to her bedroom, she turned off the lights and snuggled up in the warmth of her freshly washed sheets.

The sound of music and laughter echoed down the hallway as Haley lay in the darkness, fiddling with the necklace, thinking of all of the pleasant times she and her grandmother had shared together. Restless, Haley hopped out of bed, turned on her reading lamp and took out the photo album she kept under her bed. For the next several minutes, Haley lay on her stomach, smiling as she looked through the photo album. Towards the end of the album, Haley came across one of her favourite pictures. It showed her painting a picture using an easel on her first day of kindergarten.

Haley thought she had noticed everything there was to notice about the photo, from every brushstroke to every wrinkle on the back of her grandmother’s delicate hands, but her smile faded when, tonight, she noticed something in the background that she had never seen before. Her anger bubbled higher inside her the more she took note of what was in the photo. She sat up and stared at the light bulb in her lamp, its dark-orange glow mimicking how Haley was feeling on the inside. With every intention of putting the photo album away, Haley slammed it shut and, just as she did, the light bulb shattered and the window next to her bed began to crack.

The forest drew me in but it was The Cave Dweller who kept me here.

The few villagers who walked by on their way to trade spices with the foreigners commented on how foolish I was for wanting to build on the rocky ground next to the cave, but I was not building it to impress them, nor was I building it for protection or safety. The Cave Dweller took care of that for me now. He has developed a great deal of respect for me. The type of respect reserved for the determination of an enemy.

The village could no longer cater to my hopes and desires. The narrow-mindedness and simplemindedness of its people repulsed me more each day. On a dreary July day, I blew out the last of the candles lighting my abode, gathered my supplies in my barrow and made my way into the forest. Peace and comfort washed over me like a soft blanket covering a small child. I battled through my exhaustion, travelling for two days up hills and across rivers before discovering the perfect spot to build my new home. The forest opened up to a clearing in front of a cave, and the ground still felt damp from the recent rains. There was more than enough room for me to build my new home here, though that was true of the half-dozen places I had stopped at up until today. The difference here was the view of the forest.

Looking out over the edge of the rocky clearing was akin to staring into a world gone topsy-turvy. Here, the clouds floated below the treetops as if being pushed down by an enormous layer of invisible glass, the crisp air carrying fewer sounds than it did back in the village. I wiped my brow and set myself to work. This is where I would build and this is where I would live. That was when I heard the Cave Dweller’s terrifying growl for the first time. Just like waking up from a nightmare, I convinced myself that the grumbling was something I didn’t need to concern myself with and set to work, laying out the wood that would form the foundation of the home I never thought I would own.

I spent the next eighteen days building the house; sawing, lifting, tying, concentrating and humming. Every day I was closer to achieving my dream. The wooden cabin was all I would ever need, and I was filled with pride as I stood back admiring my own masterpiece.

My grin turned serious when I heard the grumbling once again, and I tightened the grip on my staff while staring into the cave. The growl continued longer this time, long enough for me to understand that it was not the wind making that sound. I considered for a moment taking shelter in my home, but that felt far too cowardly. So, instead, I moved to the front of the cabin, pushed my staff into the ground and waited for whatever monster lay in that cave to accept my challenge.

Prompted by my defiance, the noise increased in volume until I had to cover my ears. I squinted my eyes and lowered my head. I could see the silhouette of the rocks as they flew past my head, destroying the roof of my house. I remained calm and held my ground. Seeing the enormous black hand of the creature in the cave grip onto its walls was enough for me to tightly close my eyes. I can tell you that I was filled with fear over the course of the next minute. The Cave Dweller wrapped himself around me, growling as loudly as he could. When I thought it was over, I opened my eyes, turned around and started to weep. Pieces of wood and logs I had chopped were strewn across the open forest. The Cave Dweller had destroyed my home, but he was about to learn that he had not destroyed my resolve.

Since then, I have built and rebuilt the house more times than I care to consider. I have braved wind and rain without shelter or rest, just to show the Cave Dweller, and myself, that I am in control. He protects me from death while challenging me to live.

And for that, I respect him immensely.