Sand and Sea

The world is so much bigger here at the end of it. The earth ends in an expanse of powdery white sand and the horizon stretches, pulled across the sunset in ink and dying sunlight. Stars shine, almost as innumerable as the shades of blue darkening in the west. The waves roar in an endless harmony with the call of the gulls. The night comes in on the waters and engulfs the shoreline, obscuring the perfect shapes of shells upon the beach. A cool wind blows in, bringing with it the caress of salty air, blending endlessly with the music of the shadows. My eyes trace the white breaks in the surf, just barely able to make out anything as the moon is being coy tonight. He will not show his face, though I know he is full in the sky.

I feel so small, standing here with the waves trying to pull me down like they did the sun only moments ago. I look up at the sky and I can see the depth of them. For a moment I feel as if I understand it, this strange world we call home. I can hear the mingling harmonies and melodies of the earth and I feel the same seamlessly perfect blend between the damp sand and the waves that wash up around my ankles. The movements of the world are perfectly synchronized here and everything is where it belongs. I am where I belong. It is as if I can see the world perfectly clear. The clouds in their ashen hues lay perfectly against the melancholy indigo and sapphire sky, limned with the silver light of a hidden moon. Somber though it seems, it is nothing of the sort. The pinpricks of light are iridescent and innocent, their lights guides, wards against even the darkest of nightmares. This is the place where I go to walk across the sands of time. It’s all there in the grains of sand that soak in the wisdom of the stars. The answers to life, love and happiness are spelled out in the laughter of the sea. It would seem as though all I had to do was stop and listen to the whispers of the wind and I could discover all the answers I've ever been looking for.

And then it is gone. As swiftly as it comes, the moon breaks through the clouds, shattering the spell of the night with its garish beams. The darkness, once so deep and gentle juts out of the waves, a jagged wall against me. The stars dim into just memories of their former selves. The wind is too cold, the tepid waves unfriendly, and the gloom inimical. The door to the world closes and I walk away, knowing when I am no longer welcome. Perhaps I will come back tomorrow night, when the moon wanes and the world softens again.

Reviews

[Joel]

A lot of thick poetic descriptors. I wish I could write like this! Maybe try breaking up stretches of long, descriptive sentences with short, abrupt ones and a few actions to remind us where we are and what we're doing. Also, maybe break up paragraphs into smaller units too. Beautiful word painting!

[Laura Coleman-Heyne]

You have a gift for language. This is such a beautiful piece of prose. I am anxious to read more of your work. I don't have a single suggestion for improvement. Well done!

[LastMonth]

Fantastic.

I felt as though I'm reading a portrait. Every word was the swipe of a brush, every sentence a different shade of blue or white.

You did an exceptional job. Your choice of words is spot on. It helps draw the reader into the right sort of atmosphere.

A part of me wishes to see this continued. Elaborated upon, completed. But yet another part knows that adding anything more will ruin the mytsique and aura of this pieace.

Thank you for your story.

[TheBlasphemousOptimist]

Oh my! Thank you so very much!