literature

Gone with the Tide

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Literature Text

Her footprints remained in the sand long after she left, like her voice remained in my heart.  It’s been two years; the tide erased her a long time ago, but I can still see her there when I smell the salt of the sea and feel the wind whipping through my hair.

Charisma took me by the hand and I thought she’d never let go.  We were children on a playdate, tagging along with our mothers to the beach.  We shared sticks of rock candy and she showed me the beauty of sea glass.

“It’s formed by pieces of broken glass tumbling around in the ocean,” she explained.  “The best kind is from shipwrecks.  The glass is really old, and it’s the prettiest.  And there’s something so tragic about it.”

Our mothers would pace up and down the boardwalk, keeping an eye on us as we played in the sand and foamy waves.  As we grew up, they gave us more freedom.  Sometimes I’d have spending money and buy us ice cream to share; other times Charisma would dare me to swim farther out into the ocean.

One day, she brought a picnic basket and we enjoyed sandwiches and homemade cookies--baked, of course, by her mother.  Charisma gave me a necklace she made out of a piece of green sea glass, telling me it made her think of my eyes and the way they played with the light.  She tied it around my neck and when she saw it on me, she kissed me, and I turned beet red.

It’s been two years since the last time we walked our shore together, and not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about that time I should have kissed her back.  I work on a stick of rock candy--blue, like her eyes--and I see her in the way the water shimmers as the sun ducks behind the horizon.
FFM Day 9

Word Count: 322
Total FFM Word Count: 6,957
FFM Body Count: 4

Prompt (from prompt bank): Sea glass and rock candy.  -- The-Inkling

With this one, I hoped to capture the fleeting innocence of a first crush.

Writing it also reminded me of this song: www.youtube.com/watch?v=-zgDXI…
© 2014 - 2024 SurrealCachinnation
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NamelessShe's avatar
I love this so much: It’s been two years; the tide erased her a long time ago, but I can still see her there when I smell the salt of the sea and feel the wind whipping through my hair.