The beach was empty cold gusts came up off the water stinging her face Stiffly she lifted herself up from the crusty sand a sticky, empty bed dizzy from the sudden change The suns flickering glare spattered on the dark waves evening spilled onto the shore staining the water and sand Out past the waves in the deep green folds beyond the rock and weed something churned with anger it stirred in its frustration Trickles of foam and brine lapped eagerly at her feet hatefully wanting to bite and take her back to sea shivering and scared, she kicked at the sand heart pounding within her the sandy grit stuck to her tears and hair. pinching her lip with her teeth; she glared out to the angry tide: Thunder and wind slapped back at her face; she had escaped the thirsty sea held its beast back in defeat, for now. |
w o r d s. |
excerpt from Flowers of the Aftermath |
