The Gulf Coast doesn't have waves like the Atlantic or Pacific coasts, I'm told. Anyone who came from a coastline with real ocean would be left feeling underwhelmed after swimming in these waters. But I can imagine nothing like the stormy waters here. Wave after wave, they come. They're no larger than a few feet, but they're so powerful. They knock me over when I try to stand and roll me around so I don't know where the air is. They hold me down inside them and whisper in my ear, "Stay with us. Play with us. Give in to the sea." Like many hands of the ocean, they grab me and grate my skin against the rough sand when I try to leave.
They look so pretty in their frothy chaos or as they leap up the shoreline only to fall back down. If only I could walk upon them and glory in their strength, but I am sinking, sinking. The water delights in my despair as it wraps itself all around me in a deathly embrace. The storm above has hidden the sun and made the depths of the water darker than night. Though I open my eyes to search for saving, I see nothing but the water who will take me. "Be at peace in my chaos," She whispers to me as a lover, "Rest and sleep without dreams and I will carry you away."
The water is my lady. I long for her and she grasps at my hands to lead me away from the surface. To sands below the crust of the earth and treasures hidden from human eyes, she takes me. She's playful and spins me around as we fly together under her current. Far above, the waves, her servants, might have stilled, but I am too weary to look up. She takes me to the deepest depths and I am filled with her until I collapse within her. "Sleep, my love, she whispers to unhearing ears, "Although you will not dream of me again, I will dream my life of you."
YOU ARE READING
No Happy Endings
Short StoryA collection of shattered stories of shattered dreams and lives and worlds. A cry to thought and a perhaps a cry itself. Let the unhappy endings reside here so real life can have happy endings.
