scribbled_thru (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} scribbled_thru) wrote,@ 2009-05-28 03:51:00 |
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Ophelia
The hems of her cotton dress danced with the breeze. It was the first night, since winter set in all those months ago, that it was warm enough to roam without a jacket. The air smelled of honeysuckle around her. It wafted with the breeze. She closed her eyes for a moment to listen to the night air, to feel the world collectively inhale and exhale with their dreams radiating around their minds. This was a world where she had always lived, but never belonged.
She curled her toes around the springy, lush green grass. Barefoot was her preferred mode of transportation, but so rarely did she experience the simple joy of feeling the earth underneath her on her skin. Sticks and rocks and soft grass alike. She inhaled a breath of smoke from the cigarette between two of her fingers, as if trying to inhale the world into her lungs. Toxic smoke escaped her lips as the breeze picked up. A tendril of hair was swept out of its resting place. Her hair had been twisted and pinned back. Up off her neck and out of her face. The wild flowers were placed precariously, an attempt to hide the pins. Her curls frizzed and hardly obeyed their restraints anyway. Instead of fighting, she let the hair partner a dance with the breeze.
It was late. She could see the moon was getting ready to tuck itself in for the night as, along the horizon, the navy gave way to cornflower. The water lapped at the shoreline, and for the first time, she heard how peaceful the world could actually be. The stillness gave her a sense of power. No bitter words swam around her mind. No betrayal. It was simply her. Staring daybreak in the face, and bidding it 'good day.'
Her feet guided her into the sand, a new tactile experience. The grains were cold and damp. The tide was still off a small distance, but she wanted to feel the sand before she'd feel the water. Her toes buried themselves under the grainy layer of sand to find a more clay-like consistency. They burrowed until nearly all of her small feet were encased in the earth. She took another breath of life from the cigarette and felt the world stop. The chirping crickets, the buzzing cicadas, the occasional passing car on the road behind her. The world was silent. The swirling dreams and splashing tide called to her. The smell of honeysuckle enticing her forward. Her toes were chilled as they emerged from the sand to begin their trek. Humming tunes from her childhood, the waves drew closer.
She slipped into the water like it was a satin dress. Fabric pillowed around her, suspending her as gentle waves licked their way across her body. But the cotton grew heavy, drinking the water like a man in the desert. It pulled down with a rush of bubbles, and she went with it. The struggle was minimal, knowing that this was where she wanted to be, her body relaxed instead of kicked against the form-fitting walls of the water. Pockets of air escaped her nose and mouth until there was no breath left in her lungs.
And her last thought was of how incredible the world looked from where she was.
The hems of her cotton dress danced with the breeze. It was the first night, since winter set in all those months ago, that it was warm enough to roam without a jacket. The air smelled of honeysuckle around her. It wafted with the breeze. She closed her eyes for a moment to listen to the night air, to feel the world collectively inhale and exhale with their dreams radiating around their minds. This was a world where she had always lived, but never belonged.
She curled her toes around the springy, lush green grass. Barefoot was her preferred mode of transportation, but so rarely did she experience the simple joy of feeling the earth underneath her on her skin. Sticks and rocks and soft grass alike. She inhaled a breath of smoke from the cigarette between two of her fingers, as if trying to inhale the world into her lungs. Toxic smoke escaped her lips as the breeze picked up. A tendril of hair was swept out of its resting place. Her hair had been twisted and pinned back. Up off her neck and out of her face. The wild flowers were placed precariously, an attempt to hide the pins. Her curls frizzed and hardly obeyed their restraints anyway. Instead of fighting, she let the hair partner a dance with the breeze.
It was late. She could see the moon was getting ready to tuck itself in for the night as, along the horizon, the navy gave way to cornflower. The water lapped at the shoreline, and for the first time, she heard how peaceful the world could actually be. The stillness gave her a sense of power. No bitter words swam around her mind. No betrayal. It was simply her. Staring daybreak in the face, and bidding it 'good day.'
Her feet guided her into the sand, a new tactile experience. The grains were cold and damp. The tide was still off a small distance, but she wanted to feel the sand before she'd feel the water. Her toes buried themselves under the grainy layer of sand to find a more clay-like consistency. They burrowed until nearly all of her small feet were encased in the earth. She took another breath of life from the cigarette and felt the world stop. The chirping crickets, the buzzing cicadas, the occasional passing car on the road behind her. The world was silent. The swirling dreams and splashing tide called to her. The smell of honeysuckle enticing her forward. Her toes were chilled as they emerged from the sand to begin their trek. Humming tunes from her childhood, the waves drew closer.
She slipped into the water like it was a satin dress. Fabric pillowed around her, suspending her as gentle waves licked their way across her body. But the cotton grew heavy, drinking the water like a man in the desert. It pulled down with a rush of bubbles, and she went with it. The struggle was minimal, knowing that this was where she wanted to be, her body relaxed instead of kicked against the form-fitting walls of the water. Pockets of air escaped her nose and mouth until there was no breath left in her lungs.
And her last thought was of how incredible the world looked from where she was.
