Seaside Secrets

My opening of a mystery novel, which will center on a seaside island's legend, a mysterious death, and a reconciliation of lovers. Also note: All photographs in use belong to me.

She climbed the well-worn path in the midst of witching hour, longing for the sea breeze that would sweep her hair from her face and whip her delicate brown wisps in time with the waves pounding large boulders beneath her. An evening gown of ephemeral white framed her lithe body. She stood sturdy on the edge of the craggy cliff, arms spread out to her side, feeling the magic of the hour at hand. Lightening flashed in the distance and energy sparked from her fingertips, visible light in blackness. She readied for the cool Northern gust the meteorologist predicted would arrive this night and prepared for the casting, but the sea was quiet aside from the waves. Her green eyes focused on nothing in particular, so she used her ears, straining for the rumble of the storm, the bellows of seabirds taking shelter.

The wind kicked the trees and the storm drew near; clouds cloaked the moon that once lit her path up the cliff. She listened to the storm and drew strength from the snaps of branches, balling energy and moving it across the sky as a painter would direct its brush toward the outer edge of canvas. As the storm shoved its fury at the cliff, she failed to hear the snap of wood on the path. A shadowed figure moved and a hand sent her flying over the edge, tumbling downward, arms flailing.

She did not see her killer, did not finish the annual spell of protection around the island. She lie dead, twisted against the rocks with the edge of her gown blowing effortlessly in the calming storm.

Author's Note

Constructive criticism is encouraged. Nothing is too harsh. Genre targeted is romantic suspense. This is the first draft.