In smiles of porcelain...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

White fingers, stretched and malformed, float through the sky in a slow, unrehearsed way. They fragment for brief moments and slowly reform into dragons and fleeting feelings.

 

A girl with porcelain cheeks, her face torn by scraping shadows, stands alone. Her streaked black hair wavers restlessly in the breeze as she stares at ancient, faded photos, covered with dust and tears. Her feet feel hollow to her as they begin to kick up mounds of loose sand and broken shells. This sand, a cool, cold ice, with twisting feathered fingers, creeps up her worn, fragmented dress.

 

Reefs of jagged, black rock rise like lone pillars; monuments to the sempiternity of the sea. They try to crawl from underneath their constant cover, but are ever forced adown under the relentless onslaught of the pounding, green waves; deep green waves that rise up like arched wings, then fall and shatter into glassed fragments and foam.

 

The smell of dry fish and salt fill the air, as she walks further. Rhythmic thunder drowns out the sound of circling, gray sea birds.

 

Her eyes turn. Ahead lays a piece of misshapen drift, cast from the belly of the sea. From its form, a face appears, an arm grows, as does a leg, and the girl draws near.

 

A young boy, his body nestled against his arms, seems to sit awkwardly still. His yellow hair stands, then falls abruptly, echoing the pattern of shifting wind. Her dark shadow blankets his face as she sits beside him.

 

Two stone bookends rest side to side, looking out to sea. One turns with curled velvet lips, as if to speak, but hesitates in silence for a moment.

 

“Do you come here often?” she says, after what seems a short stretch of hours.

 

“I see you are here alone,” she hears him reply, without his lips ever twitching. She stares intently at him, trying to see past the wooden glare.

 

Dark shadows cover them as ancient ghosts of iron and steel roar through the sky, leaving trails of gray, black smoke. “I’ve never been here before,” she says.

 

“Parents bring you here then, did they?” he says. Her head swings slow and steady, back to a neutral position, back to the endless drummer.

 

“Moved me here,” she says, as though reciting for a play. “We had to move. I feel so...”

 

“Isolated?” he asks, as tiny crystal bottles begin to fall from the sky and shatter on the sand. The girl stands. The boy remains still.

 

“I really must... must leave be...fore I am...soaked,” she sputters, as she runs off.

 

Her room is small with enormous walls, covered with yellowed winged patterns that move and flutter. It is cold, hollow.

 

The girl lies. Her back rests against her bed. Tightly sealed gold chests, filled with murking memories, lay scattered about the room. Her eyes are caught, holding to a figurine hanging on the wall.

 

Red. Deep red and brown. An oddly shaped wooden owl stares back at her. It rests in the crest of a wooden moon. A twisted smile creases its tiny face, though it can’t be seen.

 

The girl now sits on the moon, looking down on the world below. Figures move about like clockwork statues beneath her, shifting and scuffling as she goes unnoticed above them, watching their hollow eyes shedding hollow tears. Outside her, all is deep red; a scorched and smokey red.

 

Awakened from a solemn slumber, the girl walks again along the barren sand. Dark shadows grope and slide around her, as the black waves beat time in the distance.

 

A darker shadow appears ahead. The boys’ body is still resting on his arms. The girl feels the cold grabbing her legs and arms and she sits beside him.

 

“How long have you been resting by this sea? Do you never wander the waterway?” she asks, as pools of ice well up in the pockets of her eyes.

 

“If only I had feathered wings,

that could bend and curve and reach,

beyond imagined dreams,

unhindered by the weight of earth.”

 

The whisper comes from the shadow. A tiny ball of crystal slides down her cheek.

 

Laced gray blankets fragment in the air, revealing small candles in the sky.

 

The girl begins to choke and cough on her tears, and she leans toward the boy. She feels the boy wrapping his arms around her, holding her. Her body relaxes against his. A soft smile lifts her porcelain cheeks, though it can’t be seen.

Reviews

[KATHY SUE SILLS]

This was a very intriging story filled with a hint of sadness, and mystery! The description and imagery was done so perfectly! i could visulize the scene in my mind! Awesome read!

[Cherrie Palmer]

Melancholy tone set to beauty Wonderful!

[McKenna]

Very nice! It was dream-like and whimsical and sad all at once. It reminded me a little of Ray Bradbury's From the Dust Returned.

You are so full of TALENT my friend, what a wonderful story, I totally enjoyed every line of it. It's going into my favourites, to read, read read it over and over again.... cause this is worth it. Great imagery and word use. Thank you Craig.

[John Stussy]

This was an enthralling story, haunting throughout from the words you used. Both of the characters seem to be ethereal in a way, existing on another plane. I'm going to have to reanalyze this piece, seems like it will have more to offer the reader with each fresh time it's read.

[Hoosier Belle]

you write with wonderful imagery. I got a Alice in wonderland feel as well. Your detail is powerful and quite gripping. very nicely done. ♥

[Muse]

Enchanting! It almost had an Alice in Wonderland feel. She was neither here nor there. In every twist and turn....she becomes touched by the impossible. You mix fantasy with child-hood fears. Penned in pure magic!

[...]

Wow a very beuatiful write and read here. Enjoyed this Craig.

[KAREN]

Beautiful, yet has a sad feeling to it. Great imagery with beautiful poetic expressions. The story took me to another time and place.