A fool once told me to follow my heart, And a wise man to follow my head. I may not be a wise, but I am no fool, So I went my own way instead.

Farewell, lil Kitty Opuss has brought me through some pretty rough times. Before I lost my password for my @Earthbound account, this app pulled me through times where maybe I would have given up. The community here gave me advice and comments on my work and helped me improve my writing style. I enjoyed reading other's work. #poems and stories that could make me laugh or cry. This is an amazing app, and I'm sad to see it go. If anyone wants me to share any further additions to my story Born of the Cliff with them, email me on twistingtheshadows@gmail.com As a goodbye to opuss, end all your posts with #goodbyeopussia

Born of the Cliff - Part 3 As I rose back to the top of the cliff, escaping certain death (albeit slowly), I felt a dull ache begin to spread through my head. The throb became a pulse, and then a constant, the searing pain drawing all my attention and stuttering my climb. Instead of making slow but sure progress to the top, I was falling a metre for every two I climbed, plummeting every time the attack on my brain became too much. Through pain blurred eyes, I searched the cliff for handholds so I could rest my mind at the expense of my body. Unfortunately, the#moonwas small, and I could see nothing. I closed my eyes and fumbled. A handhold! I grabbed it. My right hand searched frantically for another nook in which to settle. It found better than that. I couldn't believe my luck when it found a crevice as tall as to my waist, as deep as my arm length and plenty wide enough to lie flat. This was no natural crevice, but my agony fogged mind couldn't care less. I curled up inside, suddenly cold now I was still (understandable being that I had wriggled out of my shirt to prevent my father from taking my #life). After what seemed like an eternity, I finally fell asleep.

Born Of The Cliff - Part 2 So, there I was. 9 years of age, and filled with questions; sadness becoming anger, becoming hatred. I finally settled into a deep loathing of everyone and everything, one that painted my soul black, and turned my heart to ice. I sat there on the cliff edge for hours, watching the sun while it set as if nothing had happened, realising that the sun didn't care. I dangled my feet over the edge, toying with the nothingness. Debating whether I should do what my father failed to do to me. And then I slipped. In that split second of falling, I knew I wanted to live. I knew that I wanted revenge on a world that didn't care it had taken my brother. I wanted to prove to my dad he shouldn't have given up, and that he shouldn't have forced anyone else to give up with him. Unconsciously, my hand snapped out, grabbing the ledge which crumbled through my fingers. I swung my other arm up from where it dangled by my side, howling in pain as my elbow hit the rock, numbing my forearm. With both arms securely in position, I my legs scrabbled at the precipice in a futile attempt to find adequate purchase. When I found none, tears began to well in my eyes, and I ran through my options in my head. I didn't have many, and most ended in death. Shaking slightly, I tensed my arms and pulled my chin level with my knuckles. My left arm quickly left its hold and searched the area above for another. It didn't find one. I felt my right fingers slip from their hold, and then again I was falling. And then I stopped. The feeling that sprung from being suspended in midair by some intangible force over an unmeasurable drop is one that very few people will experience. The fear of the unknown, the curiosity, the adrenaline. All of them coursed through my body, making me shake violently, pulling at whatever invisible, untouchable threads held me in the air above the drop. I concentrated on the threads, wishing them to pull me up, and then, much to my surprise, they did.

Born Of The Cliff - part 1 Kaelar remembered things. Not many of them, but some. He remembered the book on the table that he had so wanted to read, its dark cover, the word "over" scratched into it, crudely written in a curveless hand. He remembered reaching up, touching it, and then pulling away quickly, repulsed. He remembered racing towards the cliff edge, and then the adrenaline of the fall, and then nothing. Now he was stuck here in this empty forever, with nothing but his old memories, even those quickly fading. He could remember having a family, but what were their names? He struggled to recall, his search for details in his head taking an immeasurable time. Seconds, minutes, hours, days? It had no meaning anyway. He knew that, if he closed his eyes, a millennia could pass and he wouldn't notice. But he didn't want to be oblivious. Somehow, in the back of his head, a small voice told him that someone powerful was coming. Someone who would be able to tear apart a universe, break the mechanics of #life, destroy a world, and someone who would do so just to wrench him back through the #lifestream and back into the world of the living.