Michele at Southern City Mysteries has begun this diabolical new series called Writing Prompt Wednesdays. The prompt was “How tides come crashing…”. These things get into my head and I have to write something. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have time, that I should be doing a million other things, but I can’t help myself. So here’s the two bits I came up with.
First thing that popped into my head:
Green water crashed against the stone that had once crowned a mountain. Waves wore it down, tides moving in and out, commanded by the moon, thousands of days; thousands of years…until the strange symbol carved into the basalt vanished.
When the last mark was scrubbed clean by sand, the stone cracked, cutting into the Earth, slicing her to bedrock. Darkness wedged its way out, night without stars–and the tides stopped.
That was kinda bleh. I lost interest and went with this instead:
I love the feel of ocean tugging at my legs and crumbling the sand beneath my feet. It wants me to give up the land and come out into the deep to play, like a child begging me to see her toys. I can never say no.
I dive beneath the next wave and swim past muscled guys tossing a ball. It rolls my way, and I pause long enough to toss it back. They smile enticingly, but the ocean is more insistent, sending water up my nose for ignoring her.
I keep going, arms slicing a path through swells, until I’m as deep as the surfers who straddle their boards waiting for the right moment to catch a ride. I’m right where I want to be, where no one can see me. I always choose a beach without lifeguards. As soon as someone notices my head go under at the edge of dark blue water, they freak out, and would-be-heroes push their kayaks into the waves to search for me. They freak out even more when I don’t come up again.
I wish I was a mermaid. People would see a flash of rainbow scales, a flip of my tail then shake their heads, certain they had mistaken a dolphin for a girl. But dolphins don’t have scales. So, in their secret places they would thrill, believing for an instant that fairy tales are real, that Ariel can get her prince. They forget that in the real story her only choice was the agony of daggers in her legs or the agony of a dagger in the heart of her lover. My choice is worse than that.
I can’t become sea foam and live on in the songs of my sisters. The ocean is my sister, and we have a cruel father. No, my choice is not who should die, but who–among all those billions of beautiful, amazing, innocent people–will live.
Ok. Done now. Thank you for the exercise, Michele, but I’m going to have to put hands over my eyes when I’m reading Wednesday blogs from now on, so I don’t get sucked in. Just kidding. It’s a terrific idea, and I’ll be back!
My other item of business is a beautiful and very very appreciated award from Crystal at Crystal Clear Proofing. I’ve always wanted this one! Thank you! You must read her blog if you want to know more about grammar, punctuation and all that important stuff. And, if you’re a writer, you had better want to know.
For this award, I have to answer the following questions with one word. Here goes:
Your Hair? – brunette
Your Favorite Food? – tacos
Your Hobby? – reading
Your Fear? – spiders
Your pets? – none (I am ruled by two cats, though)
Something You Aren’t? – male
Where Did You Grow Up? – everywhere
Your Life? – lucky
Your Mood? – energized
Your Favorite Color? – blue
Now, the reason it took me a couple of days to pass this on is that I really wanted to put some thought into my picks and try not to give it to people who already have it (but I fear I may have failed there). The very deserving winners are…
Dezmond – Hollywood Spy
Lynette – Chatterbox Chit Chat
Jemi – Just Jemi
Congrats you guys! And thanks again, Crystal!
Originally published 2/10/10 – I’m Blogging Drowning Here!
Thanks for reading! More posts on books, film, and writing can be found on my website at Lorel Clayton Author.