She looked around silently, noticing every single details around her. She was a writer, a young girl who had the wildest imaginations.
Sheepishly, she felt frustrated. All she could think about writing was describing the small details about the place, basics, like how, where, when, why, who.
She never wrote anything too personal. All her works revolves only in action, nothing else. Not really a full time writer, she wrote stories just for fun. But this time, she'll let herself go. This was one of her coping mechanism.
She wrote the title, A Lost Soul in the Waves. She started to become skeptical about it, she wrote the first words a lot wordy. No feelings, no nothing.
And as a writer, she knows that it was a flaw to her story. Being too wordy with no emotions. She deleted everything, and typed in;
'An author who didn't know how to write. She was an absolute mess, word by word, but nothing can be felt.'
But then again, she never felt like it was enough. She rolled her piercings in a circle motion, it was another one of the things that makes her calm. Fun and pleasing to be exact.
Startled by how the waves caught up in her feet, she looked around. She was too immersed, not noticing that the waves already got to her. She put her phone back in the pockets of her pants, and hastily took her hoodie off the black sand.
She looked around again, searching for a better spot. Under the huge tree, she moved. Sat down on the big visible root, she took her phone out.
She was lost for words. She didn't know what to write. A Lost Soul in the Waves, she read again.
"A Lost Soul huh?"
YOU ARE READING
What Meets the Waves
RastgeleAn overnight vacation was the answer to her questions. Maybe some of her questions, but yes, the waves, the salty air, the bird noises, the beautiful sand, sunset, everything. The ocean was the silence to all her loud questions.
