9 August 2012
Sorry I haven't been posting a lot, but I've been staying with my Nain, who lives in a little village hidden somewhere in North Wales. And, well, the Internet connection isn't that great in the middle of nowhere.
Thirteen tears fall and freeze as they hit the sand by her bare feet. Her cornflower blue eyes glisten, staring out towards the mountains, ragged edges enveloped in snow and ice. A cloud sweeps past and hides the sun, shadow falling across the beach. She blinks, then turns towards the sea. Her home. Sand coats her bare feet, and salt water stains her blue dress, torn and ripped. The breeze catches her wild aqua curls, she sighs deeply, glassy eyes looking out to sea. She takes a step forward, into the surf, the cold salt water lapping around her ankles. Eyes closed, she continues to walk calmly into the waves. Water lashes her pale legs, yet she doesn't move. Her feet stay planted firmly in the sand, a part of the beach. At one with the ocean. She takes a pendant from her neck and smooths over the surface with her fingers, the light glistening on the turquoise sea glass enclosed in a delicate, swirling metal cage. as she does this, the waves slow, the sea calms, and the clouds fade. She calls to the sea, a high pitched song, beautiful, mesmerising. A siren's song. The water to her right ripples and a brilliant white mare rises out of the surf, her black mane shining in the sun light. The mare's eyes are a deep blue, alive, like the waves of it's home. She wades over to the mare, and sings to it, stroking it's mane and head. Another thirteen tears slide to the sand, freezing as they fall, landing as clear glass. She climbs onto the mare's back and mutters to it in another language, urging it on. They race across the beach, the wind lashing at their faces, the waves lapping at their feet. The mare slows, then stops, shaking her head and pawing at the sand. She slides off, letting the mare run back to the surf, watching the waves engulf it. She sighs again, another thirteen tears fall, freezing to glass as they land. She is different to everyone else. Salt water rushes through her veins instead of blood and her fingers are webbed, delicate skin connecting each finger. The sea air cradles her in it's arms and she lets it, warmth sweeping through her being. She walks to the sea, salt water lapping at her waist. Thirteen steps and she is underwater, her tears finally free to mingle with the waters of the ocean.
Thirteen Tears • Opuss № I