The Mill

A Story by TiffanyCutrone

When summer feels more like a daze than reality.

Too hard to function you stare. Your eyes must be unfaithful to you, it must be some illusion. She was olive skinned. Sunbathing nude. Her perfect brown n*****s perking up to God as if paying homage to their creator; an ode to you oh Lord! You had stumbled upon this moment of glory by taking a short cut that you had taken many a times before through the backside of the neighborhood,very few houses lined these woods. Today you were blessed to have found such a sight. With her swimsuit laying there beside her like a loyal friend all wrinkled with red stripes, you can imagine the beads of sweat that would roll off her burning complexion, slowly ever so as if reluctant to leave her. It was quiet out, the wind rippling the surface of the pool water while cars hummed on in the distance. The day was getting on without you. With the sun beating down on the back of your neck you collected yourself and began to move on. Crouching in the brush you made your escape, hesitant to leave this snapshot behind for your conscious to gnaw on. Shifting through the tree line with your heart pumping so loud it numbed your eardrums; it was strong and wanted to be heard. With your head low you watched as the ground coughed up dirt under your rubber soles with the wind playing its part by taking the specks off to where they wanted to go.

The day was yours to waste, so you'd started out early to go down to the old mill for a swim, your slice of heaven. The walk was just barely broken in, so your steps were still unsure as you pushed the brush aside. Twisted branches itching your calves you could hear the running water overtaking the rocks and rubble, ever-flowing. Your mind tugging you backwards all the while to the curves cut too deep to have been real. Her imprint on your mind kept ensnaring your thoughts with obscene hope. Each step forward the palm of cool air was there waiting to greet your sticky skin until finally there it was. The ramshackle remains of the old mill doing its best to refuse the inevitable erosion of time that breaks us all down; Nature was taking its birth right back. You walked on across the bridge that hung over the water.

The building smelled of men and women who had wasted their youth and passion in these walls to achieve some meager excuse of the American Dream; it never came. A whole generation had toiled within these walls that were now marked with teenage aggression and shrouded with saying like Janie the hoe likes to blow. Modern calligraphy. Everyone wants to leave their mark whether it is beautiful or not. There were layers of spray paint in reverence of the powers of hemp on both the mind and soul. At night this place was overtaken by kids whose breath oozed of cheap beer and ignorance. These kids who'd climbed out windows and who'd skimmed their parent’s bottles to create a new kind of liquor all their own. A liquor that slithered down into the pit of their stomachs and consumed their bodies with deranged urges unknown to these new age sinners. You thought of all the girls that must sway to the music of the dawn in search of the inexperienced hands of newly crowned men desperate to please. The crushed cans of gas station beer wiggled on the concrete floor as the air invaded the inside; these are the remnants of future self-medicators. Breathing heavy your nostrils taste the stale air as your body secretes its salty dew. The water is calling you. Looking once more at the hollow insides you trail back to the bridge.

Standing in the middle of the bridge you hang your head watching as the water reinvents itself underneath the surface again and again. At every moment it is made anew, constantly evolving in rhythmic time. Its movements lulling you closer to the edge you begin to imagine the swell of the water as it engulfs you. You will welcome the will of the water as it rushes through you. Your shirt hangs heavy with sweat and the weight of it overwhelms you. Pulling it over your head you drop it to your feet, the air waste no time to wrap itself around you. Your legs are unwilling to leave the ledge, but your body craves the cool grip of the water that waits just below. You breathe steady and slow. Your bare chest pounding in the sun. You are a warrior in the light. Then there was nothing, but the hurried exhale of air overtaking your body. Your mass breaks the surface disrupting the natural order and just like that nothing else matters. There is nothing outside of you and your mind here under the surface. This is simplistic bliss.

© 2016 TiffanyCutrone

Author's Note

Grammar is rough, sorry.

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PaintedBirdy

hey tiffany! i enjoyed reading this story. i like the imagery throughout it. it's interesting how you describe the mill as sorta dystopic (American Dream that never came) and right next to it is a utopia (the water; "simplistic bliss"). i also like how you capture the atmosphere though out the whole story, which sounds like pretty bad humidity, and it seems symbolic of the narrator's life. good writing!