The Wave.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

A story on how depression could be compared to waves.

The wave washed upon the shore, pushing in, then drawing away quickly with the tides. It flowed back out to sea, battered by the oncoming imitations, but slowly crawling its way to freedom. Out in the open sea, no bird disrupted its balance, only fish swam through its watery depths. The wave spread itself over the vast emptiness, grateful for the undermined space. A deep roll of thunder emanated from the sky, as grey clouds quickly filled the blue. The wave shuddered with the knowledge of knowing what was soon to come.

The rain pattered softly, falling in thin drips down over the wave. Then the drips came faster and harder, thick drops falling from the sky. The wave barely felt the barrage, protecting its inhabitants underneath who heard only the echoes of deep sound.  Lightning streaked across the sky, flying into dark clouds that merged with the next. The wind pushed against the wave, driving into it with its icy spears. At first the wave remained strong, but gradually, slowly the wind took its toll.

The wave released its grip on the sea and felt the wind lessen its torrent for a moment, but then come in harder. The wave swirled under its control, turning over and over again, its tiny inhabitants no longer shrouded by its cover.

Far out the wind took the wave, the water turning darker and darker, heavier and heavier.

After many torrents the wind began to lessen its descent, flowing past the wave instead of with it.

Finally the wave felt the sea under its body, with the wind no more than a whisper over its tips.

Its bruised inside more than destroyed. No bird flew over its demise; no fish swam in its broken depths.

The wave remained alone, in the watery depths of existence. Above the sky was blue, a rainbow curving across the horizon. A reminder of the past.

The wave felt outwards at the world he was in. Gasps of water surrounding its exhausted body. And slowly, slowly the wave once again released his grip, but this time falling into the sea. Returning to where it came from, returning to where it had started. The sea swallowed it gratefully, taking it in its grasps, easily giving the wave what he wanted.

With a simple thought the wave was gone, no longer battered by the wind, no longer to wash against a shore, but merely exist, in the memory of the world.


Far away, unaware of the barrage of the past, a girl remained alone, sitting without a companion, living as a shadow. Outside, a glowing remnant of strength. Inside, fighting like the wave. Their similarities outnumbered their differences, their minds connected by thoughts. So much they shared yet did not know, nor would ever know as she walked along a beach with fragments of the wave’s life lapping at her feet.

Yet one difference separated their indifferent lives. Unlike the wave, the girl was strong and would always fight her pain. Never would she be swallowed by the sea, or slowly release her exhausted body from her grasp.

Unlike the wave she would continue, unlike the wave she would still suffer. But unlike the wave she would live and exist as more than a memory.


Submitted: October 09, 2013

© Copyright 2021 Archia. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:


John Xu

Wow, wonderful description and vivid metaphor. Life is like a wave. There will be up and down. :)

Mon, October 1st, 2012 6:34am


Thanks so much for reading my story.

Sun, September 30th, 2012 11:45pm

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