To The World, I Say This...

Description Exercise

            Drid looked out over the vast highway. Her apartment was high enough to see the snowy beach just beyond that road. She walked slowly down the stairs for fear that she'd slip on the slush tracked in from outside. Upon opening the door it became clear that spring was coming: the air was warmer, the sun brighter, the moisture in the air higher.

She walked at a snail's pace down the street and under the freeway to the beach. The water looked frigid, but still many large and small chunks of ice floated like ships in an idle ocean. The beach rocks and moist snow shifted under her feet. She stood very still. If anyone had seen her there, they would have wondered how long she had stood there.

Her eyes glazed over, her complexion ice-cold, she could have been a statue. She didn't perceive time passing, nor the water before her, not even the roar of the highway behind her. Quite suddenly, she fell to the ground, with no movement to brace herself. Her head fell to rest in the ice water and her clothes soaked it up fast. She trembled and shook violently, but she didn't perceive the water or the deathly cold. Her hair floated and froze. The frigid lake water filled her lungs, but she gave it no thought.

She perceived nothing. She thought nothing.

Andromeda sat on a bench a half-hours' walk down the beach. She had suffered from a mysterious fever most of her life, and because the weather was warming, she felt the effects acutely. Her frizzy, crazy red hair floated like the ice in the beach-water, its dyed blonde tips flicking around her face. She had tried to straighten and die it blonde a few months ago, but it didn't last. She decided instead to cut it before the hotter spring weather rolled around. Her dad was out somewhere (she never knew where), and that meant she could do whatever she wanted. She had rolled out of bed an hour ago, put on some yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, and headed for the beach. She didn't bother with her shoes; it was a walk through a grassy backyard to the sand. She sat on the bench only because she couldn't decide if she wanted to walk along the shore or walk into the water. It looked frigid, but it would help with her constant waves of fever. She sighed, flipped her hair back.

"Screw it," she mumbled to herself. She rolled her pants up, checked her phone then placed it on the bench, and then took off her sweat shirt. She had a white tank on underneath, but she figured no one else would be at the beach in this weather, so she started down to the water.

She jumped at the initial contact of the water with her soles. She continued into the water. The water-line reached her knees, the waves freezing her thighs. Strange bubbles floated around her legs and whenever a piece of ice came close, it melted. Instead of the water cooling her fevered body, her body warmed the surrounding water. She turned to make sure no one was watching, the water now at her waist. Seeing no one, her view of the highway obstructed by a dune of sand, she relaxed. She let her body fall lazily into the water, droplets and steam leaping to the sky. The heat receded to her core, ice around her melted in fright. She breathed vapour, an intoxicating sight. The coolness floated around her body. She wished she could stay there forever.

Braoin wandered through the lake-side park. The lake had invaded the park during the winter in the guise of snow, but now that the weather was warmer large puddles formed everywhere, and what was once firm, grassy parkland was now muddy and squishy. The mud burbled and burped as it swallowed his boots and sucked in vain when he stepped away. He stood in the ankle-deep earth for a moment to take his eyes off the ground. It was still too early in the season for buds to be on the trees, but he could feel the life in his surroundings. They were almost ready. He rested a weary hand on the closest tree and breathed in the cool air. His hand felt strange; as he looked it took on the appearance of the tree's bark. It didn't just look like the tree, it lived with the tree, it was a part of the tree. Sap ran through it instead of blood, muscles turned into the cambium and sapwood of the tree itself. He closed his eyes and felt the simple life. Simple. No thoughts, or lies, or dreams, just growth and awaiting the warm spring weather. Stillness. Movement imperceptible, time unspeakable, growth and life unseen by the human eye, too used to crowding, fast-moving images. He drew himself closer to the tree, rested his tired head on its cool, firm skin and sank into its simple silence. The specific tree he leaned against had been planted recently beside a much bigger tree, which blocked the majority of the sunlight. Sensing deprivation in the smaller tree, Braoin leaned his torso and head out from the tree, his legs and feet firmly planted on the surface of the tree. His arms outstretched from the tree, he soaked up the spring sunlight and fed its product directly to the tree. Only a small part of him remained aware of the fact that he was human, that he was Braoin, not part of the tree. He could have stayed there for hours, aiding the tree in its endeavours, but he felt that he had spent enough time there and that he should leave the tree. He slowly pulled away, bark returning to skin, bright green eyes slowly turning duller. He had spent almost the entire day with the trees, but it didn't bother him at all. It didn't even bother his muscles, as a position like the one he had been in for most of the day would have hurt a normal person in a matter of minutes. Trees leaned all the time, in many different directions.