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the beach has been empty for hours, the sand worn thin and ragged. the last, feebly struggling children have been dragged from crumbling sandcastles and holes-to-china by exhausted parents. the teenagers won't arrive for their bonfire parties until later. and so, for these precious few hours, the beach is theirs.
they sit sidebyside on a worn bench, their feet bare and covered in sand, stars coming into view overhead. they're not as silent as they seem. their driedflower voices speak of fading memories and forgotten dreams; of times so long past that no other could remember them nor would want to. they speak softly, voices smothered by the heartbreaking sound of waves forever crashing unto the sand. as they speak, with their paperthin hands tightly clutching each other, the wrinkles fade away, years pass. everything is as it never was.
i know that it is probably foolish of me, but i cannot help but hope that this is how they will remain till the end - that their fragile hands still hold tight, that those fading memories never fully vanish. i cannot help but hope that even as the wind sweeps the day from the sand, and the waves wipe away all the secrets buried there, they remain.
the beach has been empty for hours, the sand worn thin and ragged. the middleaged working parents left with the sunset – the magic over, the day done. the twentysomethings will be back, of course, when all else is silent and dark, to watch the stars and dream of forever. but for these precious few hours, the beach is theirs. and theirs alone.
they sit sidebyside on a worn bench, their feet bare and covered in sand, stars coming into view overhead. they're not as silent as they seem. their driedflower voices speak of fading memories and forgotten dreams; of times so long past that no other could remember them nor would want to. they speak softly, voices smothered by the heartbreaking sound of waves forever crashing unto the sand. as they speak, with their paperthin hands tightly clutching each other, the wrinkles fade away, years pass. everything is as it never was.
i know that it is probably foolish of me, but i cannot help but hope that this is how they will remain till the end - that their fragile hands still hold tight, that those fading memories never fully vanish. i cannot help but hope that even as the wind sweeps the day from the sand, and the waves wipe away all the secrets buried there, they remain.
the beach has been empty for hours, the sand worn thin and ragged. the middleaged working parents left with the sunset – the magic over, the day done. the twentysomethings will be back, of course, when all else is silent and dark, to watch the stars and dream of forever. but for these precious few hours, the beach is theirs. and theirs alone.
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what is, or what was, or what is to come?
nothing shall last.
for everything remains as it never was.
is it too poetic? and the characters: are they too underdeveloped?
nothing shall last.
for everything remains as it never was.
is it too poetic? and the characters: are they too underdeveloped?
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Comments33
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'everything is as it never was.'
simple words creating an intricate and familiar feeling, that is my favorite part.
This feels fragmented to me, I want more depth to the characters without making them detailed. I feel as if I'm passing them by rather than really soaking in and understanding their scene.
also liked the holes-to-china
simple words creating an intricate and familiar feeling, that is my favorite part.
This feels fragmented to me, I want more depth to the characters without making them detailed. I feel as if I'm passing them by rather than really soaking in and understanding their scene.
also liked the holes-to-china