- Books, Literature, and Writing»
- Commercial & Creative Writing
Short Story/Descriptive: Beneath these waters
It was quiet. The sun gleamed upon the water’s rippling surface, like a liquid glass, so fragile looking yet it’s a liquid and therefore can’t break. But that day the sea looked so beautiful as it moved to its own rhythm, its own dancing beauty.
I watched it for hours. The rays of light sprawled over my bare shoulders, appearing a light pink upon the flesh. The rock was hardly noticeable underneath me – I was floating on a cushion of air – I forgot it was there. I suddenly turned my attention to it and touched its smooth surface. Cold. My shadow had sheltered it from the warmth coming from the blue above, the same warmth that the blue ahead shared. The cool breeze, so unfamiliar for a day such as this, kept me cool like a protective shield from the heat. But the shield didn’t protect my now red shoulders, which is why I now stand, slipping off the rock and landing on the soft sand beneath me. The grains give way under my feet and pour over them from between my toes. The warmth of the dry, baked sand slowly disappears the closer I get to the sea, and soon I am met with the water, which swallows my feet whole with its white lips around my ankles. They move in time to my wade, and slide up to my thighs the further into the sea I go. It feels so natural; no one was on the white sands – in my eyes at least – and it’s just me and the sea, and the seagulls squawking in the distance of sky.
The sun is still upon my shoulders. There is a slight tingling sensation as it burns the already red raw skin, and so I dip down into the sea so it slowly crawls up my body, over my lips and then finally I am no more to the birds above – I have disappeared. Below the surface I shudder at the chill that greets me as I first plunge into the water, but only for a second. Tiny bubbles leave my mouth and nose, bobbing about like little jellyfish up to the water’s surface. The blue gloom I have my eyes open to is peaceful and refreshing, and the way I am deprived of sound and much needed oxygen makes the watery world even more exciting. All I see is blue, deep blue...
The last bubble leaves my lips. A voice inside my head pleads with me to take a breath from the real world. My lungs ache with no air. And so my head breaks the surface of the liquid glass. And I gasp, but not for air; the beautiful sandy beach ahead of me is even more exquisite from where I am now than when I was actually upon it. But the gold fades to blue as my head is covered by the water again. And there I am again, exploring the underwater treasures of green seaweed and dancing pearls of air. A fish of some sort steals itself away in some coral as discreetly as possible. But I still see it. The silver sparkles in the sea’s light, and seems black but expensive in its light, and it’s beautiful. I could watch it for hours as it weaves in and out of the coral. But as I know, I have to face the real world sometime. But then again, that thought, the thought of the little time I have down here, makes this little world a whole lot more special.