The sandy wind whipped like a snake and snapped at my face, terrirorial. Jade and turquoise waves whisked up, lacey foam forming from the curling splash. To me, it seemed the ocean was just as troubled as I am. The angry water swiped at my frostbitten toes, and I breathed in as if my lungs had been punctured. I cried out as if no one were listening, the thought of being uncared for tumbling around in my broken thoughts. It was not only my lungs that had been seemingly puntured, my heart was stabbed with a laugh, i guess you could say. It replayed in my mind like a broken record: his smug laugh and beautiful eyes mocking me, surrounded by a circle of so many others doing the same. My deepening sorrow would've drowned me more violently than this stormy sea, and that gave me a horrible, dark idea. I clawed at my left hand and cried out in pain, from the blood and my sorrow. I didn't get why this all happened so suddenly, as if someone snapped and the friction 'blew up' this situation. It mad much more sense then. A rushing river raced down my face, as salty as the sea; my burnt hair being whisked and curled in this violent, salty wind. For the last time, I cried out; but with such agony, the dull gulls seemed to hang their heads in a contagious, sympathetic sorrow with a frown that could make the angels cry. One last wave flew too far up the sand and washed me away. A distant cry screamed out my name, but I had imagined it, I'm sure. The dark, cold ocean turned silver and feathery; as if the bottom was a cusion, but it wasn't. A distant figure formed on the small golden horizon. He tenderly grasped my hand and patted it, smiling with an unnamed sympathy. His eyes were the softest I'd ever seen, and he told me, "Never look down, always look up." As quickly as the young man appeared, it swiftly disappeared and I coughed up the last of the water that had been embedded into my lungs. As i drowsily and reluctantly fluttered my bare eyelids open, it was as if i was still in my vision with the young man I knew was an angel by his silken, feathery wings. My friend reached his had out to me and smiled with a glowing sympathy. He felt sorry for me, and I felt so weak and helpless. He had saved my life; or killed it, I wasn't sure. As his hands and his emerald eyes remained, I could just barely make out a soft voice in the back of my mind. "Looke up, look up!" The sea had opened my mind, and my eyes. "Look up..." As I reached out, I did.
The Soft Eyes of the Ocean
October 27, 2009