The panicked scream resounded through the early morning air. The sound reverberated around the cliff, which seemed to mock the helpless stupor of a young boy, powerless to do anything against fate.
Ryan, watch out! Get back quick!
Drenched in a cold, clammy sweat, Peter awakens from the same nightmare that has haunted him the last year since his elder brother Ryan's death. The same nightmare again, he thinks, gazing at their last family picture together on the wall and letting his mind drift back to that fateful night...
The same nightmare again.
The cold, foggy night was almost over and the first slivers of daybreak broke through the early morning clouds. He'd known. He'd known from the moment Ryan had sulked out of the room after arguing with his parents over dinner, slamming his room door shut. They had warned him that is was dangerous to go near the cliff because of a blast in the mine nearby.
They had warned him that the ground was unstable. Ryan wasn't stupid; he knew that the cliff was dangerous. The challenge had a grip on him though - to capture a picture of the raging river for the local newspaper - something no other photographer his age, much less older people were willing to risk!
Peter had woken to the tell-tale sound of a door creaking quietly shut. He caught a glimpse of Ryan rushing through the gate.