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The Island.

Short Story by: annemaree

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Summary

The undercurrent of a womans feelings on an outing to an island beach. And the island she has built around herself made up emotional coldness.

Content

Submitted: April 12, 2007

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Content

Submitted: April 12, 2007

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Sitting on the shore of an island where waves stirred by a temped beast break to wash against the sun scorched sand. My chipped armour struggles against the onslaught of wind as the sand swept along by the unseen breath of a hidden god.

 

My feet dig into the cool dampness that anchors me there as I watch the distant shore where an army of waves beat and retreat tossing their foe, scattering them crushed and torn along the shore like lifeless figures long forgotten. 

The heads of rocks barely visible by the break of darkness encompass my husband as he stands erect against the burning sun, his brown fist held taught in the air waving to and fro menacingly beckoning the call unheard. 

Coolness envelops me as I brace myself pulling my sundress tighter as the breath of wind circles and rises, moving through the palm trees. There a spider barely hidden by a leaf desperately tries to hold on to his web of entrapment as it crumbles, leaving him defenseless so he retreats to the safety of a limb. 

A gulls shrill can be heard above the windswept waves as it soars and circles the enemy below. Diving into the deep then retreating to soar high into the horizon, its shrills echo like the long forgotten cries of a battlefield swept away by the currents of time.

 

The sould figure in black winding his way alone in a torrent of unforgiving depth as his lone sail a shield of protection carries him to distant shores. The sail disappears past my husband stooped peering into the deep, his bleached whiteness shines against the sun as he rises and turns slow and deliberate as a giant hovering above the torrents.

The sky darkening by windswept clouds sends a chill through the air as I rise standing firm like a soldier ready for battle, I wait unyeilding pulling my sundress close raised in readyness to ward off the cold

I brace myself with folded arms as I watch my husband move towards me crushing the waves underfoot as his hand rises and lingers, his weather beaten face hidden from me I stand ready and waiting.

 


© Copyright 2016 annemaree. All rights reserved.

The Island. The Island.

Status: Finished

Genre: Other

Houses:

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Other

Houses:

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Summary

The undercurrent of a womans feelings on an outing to an island beach. And the island she has built around herself made up emotional coldness.

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