The Secrets Beneath Our Feet

Chapter One: Oceans Away

" I will follow you,

My love,

To the edge of all our days,

To our very last tomorrow." ~Atticus

.....

No person can truly describe the creation of what we call art. From the soft curve of an acrylic brush, to a tear stained poem written in blotched ink about heartbreak, something profound is created. No equations, no logic or reason. The process flows out of our fingertips, whether it be mad scribbles in anger or roses so detailed that you can see the veins in each scarlet petal. Like clockwork, something of higher power takes over the artist, and uses their emotions to create a substance we all deem profound and endless in life.

What gives the creator the silent urge to pull out paper, or the musician to grab their guitar? Is it comfort, expression, or a sudden enlightened inspiration? Maybe, some of the simplest of experiences cannot be explained by what we know. What remains is the unknown, the things in this world that have no reason behind them and don't follow the predictable laws of our universe. They keep themselves hidden, but why?

My name is Lorena Rose, and I believe I know the answer.

"Ms. Rose, are you ever listening?"   My eyes left the open window I had been gazing out of.  I met my college professor's glare, his bushy grey brows furrowed in my direction.   I instantly regretted straying my sight from the ocean outside, it seemed a lot nicer than Mr. Weber.  I crossed my arms, snuggling into my green sweatshirt. My eyes couldn't help but glance away again in defiance to his tone, and also in embarrassment. I always found a way of becoming the topic of the class.

  "Ms. Rose, a response would be appreciated, unless you'd like me to write you up again? "

I looked away from my sandals and smiled.

    " My apologies, Mr.  Weber,  I couldn't help but look at the swimming families outside.  I sure wish to be among them. "  His eyes hardened, and I couldn't help but notice their color.  Nearly black, they were so lifeless, so suiting. 

  " Get out of my class. " 

I got up from my seat, adjusted my shorts, and began to pack my things.  I closed my notebook and shoved it into my binder, silently loathing how in detail Mr. Weber lectured about plants.

  "I will personally talk to your dad tonight. "

I slapped my binder shut, contemplating throwing it at him.  I grabbed my leather backpack and left the aisle,  Jackson elbowing me as I passed him.  He  flashed one of his infamous smiles, and winked.  I could nearly see the girl next to him drooling over his blonde curls.  Cheeky bastard.  As I exited the room, Mr. Weber couldn't help himself.

  " Do get help with your dissociation, Ms. Rose." 

I clenched my fists, and kept walking. 

The hallways blurred around me, into a beautiful catastrophe of colors.  Fellow students strolled past, all at different paces with backpacks and belongings, and all with a destination in mind. I didn't notice the details of their faces, or curvatures of their smiles.  I never really did.

As my mental disorder presented itself again, my focus drifted away. The diverse clothing of a college campus meshed together, like blends of watercolor.  I found my feet carrying me towards beach, climbing down the sandy stairs of our campus.   "Hey, slow down goldfish! "  A familiar voice brought me out of my trance, and warmed my heart.