The Bird and the Rye

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short recount of the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Submitted: May 22, 2012

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Submitted: May 22, 2012

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Damp fog had settled over the already stifling campground before I ever reached the water. The rays danced emphatically from drop to drop creating a pearl curtain, a beautiful sight worthy of the finest acrylics. My bike drummed softly against the black pavement, I didn’t want to wake a soul. I admired the green twisting brushes that hung low to the moist sand dunes and how the grain seemingly swayed in unison with each push of the foot. The world appeared content and perfect in every fashion. My world however appeared black and laced with red. The morning of that summer my world, for a time, had fallen to pieces and I was forced to take in every waking detail.

I banked the turns of the path sharply, not caring who or what I might hit as a result. I pedaled as fast as I could, hoping that the bay was just around the next curve. When the bay first came into sight I couldn’t believe my eyes. It appeared as if the very sea had puked its leafy greens right onto the beach. The sand was tainted with huge rows of the most pungent seaweed and had dead life scattered about. In a fit of the purest anger I threw my bike to the side and proceeded down to the beach. Making a point not to remove my shoes in fear of obtaining some untold disease, I carefully scrambled over the logs.

Once on the wretched sand, I began my journey towards the washed up tree on the opposite side of my location. As I walked among the slime, dead life, and scum I could not help but think of everything wrong that was in my life. I carefully categorized every “terrible” occurrence and made a point to highlight how bad I must have it relative to the rest of the world. The very sea seemed black with hatred. In my hate and anger I trudged onward toward the tree, not knowing if the air was clearer over there, not caring about anyone else, not thinking.

I ascended the first bleach-white branch with a familiar ease. The next branches came faster and it felt as if I was designed to climb, I began to develop I steady rhythm. I effortlessly reached the top of my destination before long. Taking a seat on a branch I shut my eyes and took in my surroundings blocking out all the noise of my own feelings. I heard the waves wash against the stones. I smelt the breeze of the cold salty air. I felt the wood moan and bend under the weight of my body (probably slightly heavier than the average seagull). I sat there and mourned in my anger waiting for something to change.

It seemed as the clouds began to dissipate, letting the sun shine through vividly in streaks of white. I looked out onto the water and squinted in the sudden brightness. There out on the bay I saw a great bald eagle soaring across the surface. The bird had long, flowing feathers of brown and a massive wing span that would rival that of any human. The eagle with its magnificent white head looked right at me and dipped its head under the surface. In an instant it had reemerged with a small blue fish trapped and wiggling between its golden beak. The fish’s scales reflected silver from the light and it seemed to me as if it was a piece of the most polished steel, a trophy. The bird again looked at me with its great majestic eyes, its trophy clenched and lifeless. I knew in that moment that everything would be alright. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.


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