Speak to Me (boyxboy)

First Word: Water

“Alphonse! Get your lazy ass out of bed! The other workers already headed out, how long are you going to sleep for?” a shrill feminine voice screeched up to the second floor. The voice was muffled by the closed wooden door and a flight of stairs, but it was still loud and clear.

I groaned, shielding my eyes from the morning sunlight. My head pounded; whether from lack of sleep, or too much of it, I wasn't sure. I pried my eyes open and tried to blink back the blurriness from disuse as I faintly heard heavy footfalls up the stairs.

My eyes wanted more than anything to close again and stay like that. I almost gave into their will when my bedroom door was flung open with a bang. Warm, warn hands grasped me around both ankles and yanked me from my peaceful bed.

I hit the floor with a thud and opened my eyes again to be greeted by my mother's impatient face.

“Why hello, Mother. Looking lovely as always this fine morning,” I croaked out with a forced smile.

“Smartass,” she mumbled before storming back out the door and down the staircase.

I groaned once more before getting up from the tangled mess of sheets. I walked dizzily over to the door, closing what my mother had left open (probably on purpose) and stretched on my way over to the closet. It was Saturday, and the reason I was being woken up at an unholy seven-in-the-morning was most unfortunate. A heavy storm had rolled through yesterday afternoon and half of the ocean was washed up all over town.

I slipped on a shirt lazily and tugged on a raggedy pair of jeans before forcing myself away from my bed and down the narrow wooden stairs.

At the bottom of the staircase I was greeted with the bright yellow walls of the kitchen mixed with the overwhelming Florida sunlight. Mom never placed curtains over the sliding glass door in the kitchen. She liked the way the sunlight reflected across the glass fixtures around the room and mixed with the brightly colored walls.

She took the beachy vibe to a whole new level. In the china cupboard, instead of dishes or pictures, she had wine glasses filled with sand from different beaches across the world. How she knew which one was which, I'll never know. And just above the kitchen sink was a fish net canopy filled with every kind of sea shell you could imagine.

The outside deck even had tiki lamps.

I didn't wait for Mom to yell at me for dawdling. Instead, I quickly pulled on a pair of warn out flip-flops and ran from the house, hearing the screen door smack shut behind me and my mom curse me out for leaving a crack in her house. I rolled my eyes. There was no crack.

As I ran along the sand, I watched as the waves calmly lapped up the side of the beach, finished with their destruction. All around me were people picking up after everything that the waves had ruined and misplaced.

I hated the water. I hated the sea. And I hated everything in it.

All it did was destroy, and that would never change.

I stopped running when I reached the large public beach. There were a lot more people in this area. Most of the town, it looked like. Everyone was working together with trash bags and rakes, cleaning up the area so it was nice and clear once again.