THE CHASM 

By Tessa Harvey


    Photography had been Dylan's first love and more and more he focused literally on this subject. Without consulting his uncle, he quit legal studies and studied photography.
    He remembered how he had never raised the alarm when Ariella fell over the edge of that terrible chasm. Shame filled him. Immersed in his new studies, he forgot God. God did not forget him, but that was immaterial to the young man. Freedom beckoned with greedy fingers. He sent an email to Uncle Gavin informing him of his career change and of the awards and renown coming his way.
    His uncle was not best pleased, but Dylan felt little anxiety. One day he drove up to the moors beyond the city with a young woman. They left the carpark just as another car pulled into the small scenic lookout carpark. Seeking to be alone with the woman, Dylan went for a short walk. Mist suddenly came.
    The sudden mist swirled round them, damp and clammy. The woman was frightened. She felt claustrophobia crawling in with the mist. Letting go of Dylan she said, shakily, "I'm going back to the car. It's not locked, is it?"
    "Fine," he answered, annoyed. "I will try and get a few photos first. Maybe it will clear soon." But Sandra had gone. He moved forward, trying to reach higher ground. If he could get above the mist, it would be an exciting photograph - sea of mist and jutting out crop of rock.
    Sure of his purpose, trying to hurry, Dylan felt the ground shift beneath his feet. Clumps of reeds had given way to patches of water and lumpy, grassy tussocks. Trying to retrace his steps, he started deeply sinking. "Sandra!" he yelled, afraid. "Get help. I'm sinking!"

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