PRACTICE
I spent this past weekend in Capitola, CA — a cute, ocean town of surfers, shoppers and sun-seekers. Today, your writing prompt is to write about the beach. Use this setting as the backdrop for your practice. Is there a dialogue happening in one of these houses? A romance between the two on the shore? Perhaps a mystery that evolved the night before.
Write for fifteen minutes. When your time is up, post your practice in the comments section. Please be sure to offer feedback to your fellow writers as well!
Capitola by Don DeBold
I tried this exercise with the main characters of the novel I’m currently shopping out. It’s not complete or anything, but I hope you guys like it!
I don’t know the name of the beach or where it was, but I remember the salty smell of the surf, the feeling of the grains of sand between my toes, and the burn caused by walking across the expanse that had me whining right alongside Jacklyn. Mother would have told me to suck it up, but Uncle Ray simply hoisted me up against one hip, and Jacklyn against the other. He was strong enough to carry both of us without much effort.
Jacklyn’s dark curly hair was pulled into pigtails and she wore that glowing grin plastered on her face, the one that would not be denied a returned smile. Even at the age of four and a half, she was at her glorious best, filled with spirit and energy and bravado. It took her all of five minutes to adjust to the heat of the sand she had previously considered unbearable, and commence cartwheeling across it, despite Ray’s insistence that she would get hurt if she didn’t stop. Eventually, he realized that she wasn’t listening, wasn’t intending to listen, and simply gave up the fight.
I was content to watch Jacklyn go, tumbling around, her body cutting through the sunshine as she passed along my eyeline. She was like a damn wind-up doll – spinning, twirling, leaping, diving. The blue of her bathing suit was highlighted the impurity of the ocean water beyond.
Being me, I felt the need to point this out to Ray, who lay beside me on the fuzzy orange beach blanket he brought along for the journey.
I wasn’t much different at five.
“The water’s dirty.” I screwed up my nose. “Pollutants and stuff.”
Ray smiled where he lay, then propped himself up on his elbows, slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, and peered over them, emerald eyes twinkling. “Then don’t swim in the water, yeah? Look, Kyp, there’s plenty of sand here. Be a kid, for God’s sake!”
I shrugged, let him believe that I didn’t want to play. In actuality, I didn’t know how to play. Not there. I had never been to a beach before. But there was no way my pride would allow me to admit that.
I pushed my dark hair out of my eyes. “Sand’s dirty, too.”
Ray observed me for a moment, then dropped onto his back again. “Jacklyn’s never been to a beach either, you know? She figured it out.”
He understood me far better than anybody without mind reading powers should. Jacklyn inherited that trait, that knack for reading people.
Interesting. Sometimes, the weight of the world makes us forget how to be a kid. Good luck shopping!
Watching the wave beat themselves against the beach brought the sadness to well up from the depths. It reminded her of the last time she was here with him. That day was amazing and horrible all at once. They knew it was going to be the last time they could be here together. His cancer came on so quickly that there was nothing the doctors could do to help.
Why the hell did he get cancer? He never smoked or anything.
She remembered the way his skin was so sallow and thin looking. It seemed like she could see every vein. His smile still had a hint of the happiness and joy their life together had contained. But, the sadness of the knowledge that he was abandoning her floated around the edges. It had been so hard to watch him sit and enjoy his last time at the beach.
He didn’t have the strength to play in the water. He could only sit at the edge and let the water wash over his feet. He was so happy, though, to be able to do it one last time.
He wallowed in the serenity she couldn’t feel. She railed against the dying of the one man she had found who could make her feel safe and sound.
The flames of the fire flickered behind her filling the cabin with smoke. It was making her eyes water.
The heat was getting stronger as she turned to face the door and walked in to embrace him on the bed.
Scott- this is compelling! I immediately connected and want to read more!
The astonishing wonder of a beach can be a perfect place for poignancy. Interesting ending. I imagine it’s a husband and wife and she’s taking matters into her own hands for them both.
What an astonishing picture of the anger and frustration of the caregiver. I wonder if he’s breathing his last or if he’s already dead.
Wonderful mix of feelings and description of the ambience. Keep the good writing!
The pretty pink house was just what I wanted. When I was little I got a doll house for my birthday. I hated it. Mom and Dad never knew. They just thought I didn’t like doll houses. That wasn’t it.
It was white. With a green roof. How mundane could you get?
When I got married we went off in our maroon colored Dodge and made our life in the big city. We came from small towns and thought this was a grand adventure.
Our first apartment was in a…white house with a green roof. How mundane.
It did have a tower on one corner. Not our apartment, but that made it a little less mundane.
Several apartments later, we bought a house that was barn red. Not mundane.Our lives were a bit mundane. We had three children and celebrated birthdays and anniversaries.
Then we moved to a small town and into a white house with black shutters. It was mundane and ordinary.
So was our life.
I wanted to not be mundane and ordinary. I wanted a pink house with purple shutters and frothy parties.
We retired to a small village on the beach. Got a new house.
Pink with purple shutters.
We have frothy parties when the summer group comes. We have drinks with little umbrellas in them and pink and white cookies.
The Horrors of the Mundane. 🙂
The beach as an escape from the gray life. Great writing!
I liked your unique focus on the color of the homes. Fun read! 🙂
Love this … “I wanted to not be mundane and ordinary. I wanted a pink house with purple shutters and frothy parties.”
Particularly ‘frothy’ parties.
Regards
Dawn
Oh the life cycle in 15 minutes, all described as colors. Highly imaginative, and a delight to read.
As Amy walked along Kailua Beach, her feet carved shallow pits in the soft, damp sand that filled with water as the tide rolled in and out. Warm water washed over her toes with each wave rising and falling as smooth as breathing. A light breeze tickled her skin. She felt these things automatically, just as she wasn’t seeing the green pine trees writhe with the wind, or an ocean so blue it shame the bright sky.
She was glad there weren’t many people that day. A couple kayakers absorbed the peace of the canal. A wind surfer made use of breezy trade winds. A few tourists dotted the beach, their pale skin glowing against the white sand. She could feel alone here.
Her mind was busy, more like a stormy sea than the calm ocean surrounding her. The touch of her Uncle had sent tingles into her body, an undulating sensation she’d never felt before and she wasn’t sure she was supposed to feel. He said he touched Auntie like that and Auntie liked it. Well, it didn’t hurt her. It felt strange. Different. She didn’t know what to think.
Amy sighed. She wondered if she should tell her mom, but was afraid of her reaction. She could already hear her mom asking, “What were you doing to make your Uncle do that?” The question of telling her dad wasn’t considered. It was too embarrassing. Suddenly, Amy felt nauseous.
Through a grove of pines, a child-like giggle floated through the air. Amy looked up and could see nothing. More giggles joined the first and Amy moved closer to the trees but could still see nothing.
Oooo. I love promise of something more. I do hope this turns into a short story or novella.
Thank you, Nancy! The writing practice was built around the protagonist from my novel, still in it’s infancy.
I should love to see it unfold. Find me on Facebook. Stay in touch. 🙂
I just loved it, specially because (if I’m right) this is the same novel where the pervert uncle is the villain, Am I right? I specially like the twist from the peaceful beach to her tormented mind. Keep it doing it! I want to read more
I’m thrilled you are right! Thank you, Teo.
Looking forward to reading this when you’ve finished! 🙂
Thank you, Sydney. 🙂
“Each wave rising and falling as smooth as breathing”. Luscious evocation of what draws us to the ocean’s edge. And Amy’s situation is very complicated. All the conflicting emotions of a child in circumstances far too complex and sinister for her age and innocence.
Thanks, Avril. 🙂
Nice work Dawn.
I like the gentle way you have woven a not so nice story.
And in such a short space captured young Amy’s uncertainty, indecision and expectation of being the guilty one. (Is it wrong? . Can’t tell Mother, definitely can’t tell father.)
This is a clever telling of a story that too many young women (and older) probably know.
Thanks for treading these waters. My current novel is wading in the same ocean.
Warm regards
Dawn Atkin
P.s
There’s a lot of Dawns on this site all of a sudden 🙂 I’ve always associated my name with morning but somebody told me once it is from aurora and means bringer of light. Quite nice I thought. Perhaps that’s what we’re doing. 🙂
Thank you, Dawn. It’s definitely a project that needs to be finessed. Fingers crossed, I’m equal to the task. There’s lots more complexity too! The Uncle has a journey and Amy discovers a magical world.
I have noticed the Dawns too. I didn’t like my name as a child but love it now. Always loved the name Aurora. Quick side note, Akemi is Japanese (I’m half Japanese, half German) and means beautiful morning light (or something like that). So my name, translated, is Dawn Dawn. 😀
Love the connection about us bringing light!
It was the kind of place where strange things happened. The postcard
perfect little village featured a row of candy-colored little houses that faced
the sea. We stayed in the biggest one, pastel pink with deep blue awnings and a
balcony overlooking the water.
On our first night, the landlord brought us drinks with
paper parasols. We gazed at one another and toasted our vacation as the sun
went down. Later, we heard raised voices
coming from somewhere nearby. Men’s voices; they sounded angry. But we could
not make out the words and after a while, the voices stopped.
Early the next morning we were back on the balcony with coffee
and sweet rolls when the man washed in with the tide. Even at that distance, we
could see his body was scarred, battered, and thin to the point of illness.
Tatters of clothing clung about his limbs. And he was very dead.
My boyfriend Guy is a professor of Art History and he
recognized the man at once. Michelangelo Merisi called Caravaggio. He had been
dead for centuries.
Ooooh, a mystery is afoot! Dead for centuries, yet somehow avoiding decomposition. Fun stuff.
Or maybe the professor and the narrator are transported to the sixteenth century. The village, sand and sea would be little changed. Ah, what then?
Still fun stuff!
Great mystery and the History touch makes it even more interesting
Thank you.
Love the detail and imagery you use – paper parasols especially. I also admire your fluid writing style.. am reading a very stilted, jumbled book at the moment and your piece here reminded me just how much more pleasant it is to read something that flows.
Wow! thank you, Sidney. I’m still poking around trying to find my voice. You words are very encouraging.
I just love this! I’d love to read more, to find out what’s up, and who else might wash up.
I’m considering turning this into a long short story or a novella.
Nancy was serving three beers and a soda. It was a usually day in her Summer job. The hottest maybe.
“Here we go your drinks, gentlemen. Enjoy”, smiles Nancy.
“Danke!” answers the customers at the same time.
Nancy smiles once again and goes to the next table, reclenty leave it by another group of tourists. It was an awesome beach bar, but the sand and the wind makes an uncomfortable combination, so Nancy has to clean often every table.
“Hey Nancy”, says a big muscle surfer. His name is Rongo.
“Take out your wet body from my bar’s floor, Roni”, says Nancy, pushing the big surfer guy.
“Come on, don’t call me Roni”, says the surfer stepping back a few steps next to his board in the sand.
“You like to be call Roni”
“When I was 11 years old. We are not children anymore”, and the big guy winking an eye to the waitress.
An old man walks next to the bar, escorting by two elegant gentlemen. The old man has his clothes full of dirt, mudd and rests of grass.
“Why the sensei doesn’t say hello to us?”, says Rongo.
Nancy takes a look to the strangers and the sensei going to the parking lot near the beach.
“Let me figure it out”, Nancy runs to the gentlemen.
“Excuse me, excuse me…”, the three guys stop. “Are you going to pay the debt finally, you old man?”
“I wish to pay, but I need more money”, the sensei replies.
“Please, lady, back off, eh?”, one of the gentleman goes near Nancy.
“Of course”, Nancy takes a few steps back and then she reacts with her knee straight to the guy’s balls.
The other gentleman kicks her, but his leg is trapped by the sensei, who breaks it.
Rongo shows up in a red jeep.
“Let’s move, people!”
Nancy and the sensei goes in the car, leaving the two elegant gentlemen in the floor. Rongo drives trough the sand straight to a big mountain in the end of the beach.
Teo this another scene you’ve written that sounds like an intriguing beginning to a great rock’em sock’em adventure movie! Ha ha, love that name Rongo.
Ha ha! Thanks Avril! I wasn’t sure about his name but now I will keep it! This is a martial arts story I was working out so long ago, maybe I will bring it back to live, because I never finish it! 😀
Love it when women can be tough characters. Nice she can leave her job whenever it suits her. Lol. It does have the hallmarks of a great adventure just beginning. I sense romance for Nancy and Rongo. 🙂
You are right! It is the beginning of a great adventure. I’m gladd you like it! Thanks for the feedbak!
This is a fun prompt, Marriane! I wrote this scene the other day for some random reason and it happens to go well with the prompt! 🙂
“The sunset makes your hair glow,” he says as he fingers my blonde hair.
“Does it really?”
“Would I lie to you?”
I cast my eyes down and chuckle, “Well, of course not.”
He pulls me close and we stand silently watching the sun disappear at the edge of the Atlantic. The sound of children giggling a little ways down the beach breaks the stillness. I turn my eyes to meet his. Someday we will have our own giggling children.
When he looks into my eyes he can see my heart, but I don’t look away. My heart is his. My lips try to say something, but words don’t come. We can talk without them. The night air sends a shiver down my spine. He wraps me tighter.
“We’ll never grow cold.” He whispers against my hair.
I comfort myself in his embrace, but cannot ignore the doubt clenching my heart, “What if–”
He puts his finger to my lips, hushing the fear. “Everything will be alright.”
I swat at a mosquito. The sun has set. The moment is gone. Soon he will be gone too, flying over the very ocean before my eyes. He’ll be in a foreign country, trying to learn a foreign language, and trying to influence a foreign culture. And I’ll be home. I’ll be brave. Somehow I’ll survive without him.
He glances toward the parking lot, “You ready to go?”
I nod my head, “One last kiss.”
His lips smile and his eyes dance, “With all my heart.”
Oh it’s so painful, life’s circumstances are separating them for awhile. Nicely done. They’re clearly in love, you showed, didn’t tell. And dreading being apart, yet optimistic they can handle it.
Thank you, Arvil! 🙂
I love a prompt with a photograph! Here’s my 15 minutes worth, unedited and what not….
I turn my back to the gaudily painted houses. Each decked in a brighter colour than the last and every one shouting for attention. They remind me of the people I know, clamouring for attention, for approval, for adoration. I wanted a house like that once.
The ocean. Oh, but the ocean claims top prize. It draws the eye like filings to a magnet or gannets to the shoal. Like Icarus to the sun. It demands your eye, your respect, reverence. Awe.
Wave after wave churns toward the soft, sand beach. Declaring in a half-hearted roar that it is here. It is coming closer. Such turquoise blue magnificence is greater than a slap of paint on grey, rendered walls. How it writhes and bubbles, a living beast so almighty it catches your breath, how it undulates and billows.
I walk closer. Soft, cool sand seeps between my toes. I feel the first touch of the cold ocean water as it fizzes over the sodden sand and laps my soles. I pause to watch the birds ride the waves hovering on updraughts of air. I can see their black eyes searching in the waters. Searching for something. Just like me.
I feel myself sinking deeper into the sand. The receding water upsets my balance so I feel as if I’m trying to stand still after spinning in circles. Disconcerted, I take a glance over my shoulder at the brightly coloured houses. Empty windows stare back at me, the concrete sea wall a stark barrier.
One day it will come. A big one. A big wave, bigger than all the others. A big, black wave gathers out to sea. Waiting for its moment. Waiting to charge its white horses inland, over the soft sumptuous sands to wash over me. To drown me in its blackness and sweep me off into the deep, dank depths of its deep, dark domain.
Wow! You’re imagery is excellent in the this piece. It really pulled me in. Thanks for sharing. 🙂
Yey. Poetic, prose. Exclamations!
Hear ye. Hear ye. feel to it.
My faves below…
“The ocean. Oh, but the ocean claims top prize… Like Icarus to the sun. It demands your eye, your respect, reverence. Awe.”
“Declaring in a half-hearted roar that it is here… greater than a slap of paint on grey, rendered walls. How it writhes and bubbles, a living beast so almighty it catches your breath, how it undulates and billows.”
Thanks for sharing.
Dawn
Beautiful descriptions. The last paragraph. “One day it will come”… rises to the poetic.
Thanks so much for your comments!!! Made my day 🙂
“Eliza Pilar Méndez, you goddamned sonofabitch, I’m going to kill you! You said the water was warm!”
Eliza threw back her head and laughed. “You should know better Kelsie, the Pacific is always cold.”
“Well I thought maybe it might be warmer in Capitola than it is in L.A.,” Kelsie grumbled as she sloshed through the water towards shore. Eliza put her hands on her hips and grinned. She’d gotten her hair put into cornrows at a little salon that morning. Between that, her aviator sunglasses, and the red bikini, she looked damn hot and she knew it. And she knew Kelsie knew it too, which was why she was grinning.
Kelsie stopped in front of Eliza, glaring and rubbing her arms. “Jesus baby, you’re actually shaking. C’mere.” Eliza put her arms around Kelsie’s shoulders and held her close. Kelsie pulled away.
“I’m going to get my sweatshirt.”
“I left it on our towel.” Eliza watched Kelsie retreat up the beach before she turned back to the sea. Wet sand squelched between her toes. She concentrated on the rough, grainy feeling. Physical sensation kept her grounded, kept her calm.
“It’s so blue. Looks like it just goes on forever, doesn’t it?” Kelsie was back, bundled up in her enormous lavender sweatshirt.
“Yeah. You should paint it when you get the chance.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.”
Eliza cocked her head thoughtfully. “How far do you think you’d have to go before you hit Japan?”
“Really fucking far.”
Eliza grinned again. “Well, be careful if you do go swimming. If a fishing boat pulls you in they’ll think they’ve caught a mermaid,” she winked.
Kelsie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Tu eres ridículo.”
“Your accent is getting better.”
“Thanks!”
“And when I said the mermaid thing, I meant that your legs are scaly.”
“Hey!” Kelsie scooped up a handful of water and splashed Eliza in the face, who spluttered swear words. “See how you like being frozen.”
“It’s not that bad.” Eliza took off her sunglasses and shook away the water. “Your parents spoiled you with all those vacations to Cancun. I told Chino that you’ve been to Mexico more times than me and he didn’t believe me.”
“You’ve never been to Mexico.”
“I know.”
Kelsie grinned. “Well when I’m a rich and famous artist I’ll take you. Hell I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
“Thanks babe. Right now let’s just try to get to Portland.”
“Yeah.” Kelsie kicked at the water lapping at her ankles. “Do you think our parents have called the police yet?”
Eliza snorted. “Yours might’ve, mine won’t.”
Kelsie laughed. “I just can’t believe we actually did it.”
“Ran away?”
“Yeah.” Kelsie rubbed her hands over her face and giggled nervously. “I get freaked out if I think about it too much.”
“Hey, baby…cariño. Hey, look at me.” Eliza pulled Kelsie’s hands away from her face and gently turned her around. “We’re gonna be okay, alright? I won’t let anything happen. We’ll take care of each other, that’s what we do. We’re gonna be fine, promise.”
“How are we going to get by?”
“We’ll be in Portland in a few days. We can sleep in the car until we get work and you turn eighteen in August. Then we’ll get an apartment, and things’ll just keep getting better from there. We planned all this out, remember? C’mon, we can do it. You’re the strongest, smartest person I’ve ever met. And I’ll always be right here for you.”
“I know you will be.” Kelsie smiled shakily. “That’s the one thing I don’t doubt.”
Eliza hugged her and leaned in for a kiss. Kelsie shied away. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. We can do what we want. Doesn’t matter who sees.” Eliza kissed her, gently, felt Kelsie’s hands trace her jaw. When they broke apart, Eliza leaned over and put her mouth right next to her girlfriend’s ear. “Te amo, Kelsie Dunsmore.”
Kelsie leaned her head on Eliza’s shoulder. “I love you too. So much.”
Two characters developed well in a short time. Their stop at this beach feels like the calm before the storm. Most likely Portland will be harder and more complicated than they’ve bargained for.
Nice introduction to two interesting characters embarking on a journey.
EMAIL
FROM: Herrald Die Entzucken
Founder & Mentor
PEGASUS Circle of Eternal Life
TO: All Who Sit In Our Circle To Ride The Wings Of Truth
RE: The Rapture
———————————————————————————————
Greetings my Brother and Sister Pegasaints. I hail from a location of divine loveliness and serenity, at The Edge of The World. A few days ago, I shared with you the glorious revelation that our world would arrive at its inevitable conclusion, The Rapture, in one week. With three days remaining, I have rented the entire Casa de la Luna hotel in Capitola, CA. From here, our Pegasainted band will go together from this realm to the next.
I discovered Capitola and the Casa many years ago, in my days as a wandering surfer, traveling the coast and chasing the waves. This little town is nestled in the redwood forest that stands watch over the sandy beach. The time has come for us to gather here and prepare for The Rapture. For our true believers, they know there is nothing to fear. Our enlightenment has allowed us to comprehend that this is a natural and healthy improvement.
There is no reason to fear The End. Haven’t we all been daily moving toward our individual, solitary ends? As prophesied in my PEGASUS Planetary Fundamentals, The End is cause for rejoicing, for as we know, when Pegasus appears, he will take us all together.
This is the perfect time for me to thank each and every one of you for your love and loyalty. You have stayed close to me even when outsiders called us “a cult”. How could PEGASUS be a cult? The PEGASUS Circle of Eternal Life has never approved of human intervention to create “The End”. We do not condone the drinking of “Kool Aid”, nor the bullying and intimidation of loyal followers. We have peacefully issued an invitation, that may be accepted or denied, at each’s whim. For those who choose to accept, we will assemble at La Casa de la Luna. When Pegasus appears, humbly we will ride to our next incarnation.
P.S. Speaking of beverages, I took the liberty of ordering several cases of an excellent Cabernet Sauvignon: Ghost Bridge 2011. We can sip this excellent wine on the hotel’s spacious veranda, and watch the Last Sunset Ever over the Pacific Ocean.
P.P.S. This business of prophesy is much more art than science. In extremely rare cases, environmental factors, such as negative ions, inverted auras, or magnetic lassitude may lead to a false positive reading for The Rapture. In the unlikely event that the world does not end, I will not expect to be reimbursed for the hotel or the wine. HOWEVER, DONATIONS WILL BE GRATEFULLY ACCEPTED.
P.P.P.S. This is how we handled that little snafu a few years ago, when we rented yurts on the Atlantic side of Key West.
P.P.P.P.S. And really, we set a precedent for this ages ago, at that event we have referred to ever since as “Never Happened”.
I love this. Clever. Did the photo prompt this concept?
Sounds like an invite to a party that’s just going to roll with the surf and revel in the possibility of Pegasus Rapture – the end of our days as we know it.
Or maybe the non-believers, inverted auras an negative ions will be left behind for 7 more years of tribulation and party time at Capitola.
Thanks for sharing
Dawn
Thanks Dawn. At any ocean beach, I always get this eerie “edge of the world” feeling. That feeling, and the utterly “perfect paradise” aspect of the photo inspired me. I have been to Capitola, and it is a little hidden gem, lost in time. That inspired me too.
I totally get the edge of the world feeling.
I live by some very stunning and rugged coast. It helps me keep perspective. I am but one little drop on a very watery planet.
I’m enjoying your posts. Keep up the great work.
Kind Regards
Dawn
Great piece as always, Avril! I’m very concerned about Pegasus’ followers destiny, but at the same time could be a comedy about a preacher who fails in every mission he receives LoL! Well done!
Ha ha Teo, you’re on to me! I couldn’t. decide whether to go dark or light on this one. But I had a stressful day at work and needed to laugh, so I went with comedy.
You make creativity look effortless. And who doesn’t want to enjoy the end of the world with a nice Ghost Bridge Cabernet. Bravo!
Omg, that is one of the most supreme compliments ever! I am humbled by such praise. Thank YOU Dawn, for reading and encouraging. This is an amazing place to learn and grow.
I looked up. The skies were a calming, baby blue, not a stray of clouds in sight. One after another, waves of clear, blue water rolled within another, making a rhythm in the background to all that was happening on the beach. Ice cone stands and stores were stationed near the wide blue, filled with young girls and boys playing around. I distanced away from the crowd toward the blue waves, seeking peace.
Glistening on the ocean waves, the sun beamed proudly. It was a perfect day to relax under an umbrella and read through magazines, while getting a nice tan. After finding a decent spot, away from the crowd and close to the sound of waves, I smeared a streak of sunscreen, when I heard a sudden splash and yelp.
“Someone…please, save my son,” a man in his fifties cried. He was pulling an unconscious boy with him out of the water and toward the shore.
I looked around for that someone to only find that I was the closet person to this man, and that the crowds of people were a great distance away from us. A bite of panic choked me. A picture of my cellphone on the glass table in my room flickered before me.
Perfect description of a perfect day at the beach, about to be shattered by crisis…
Thanks! It’s very underdeveloped though.
Nice post Marinanne. I’ll have to post my practice a little later
One salty kiss
Grace attempted to smile though it did little to disguise her disappointment. When he had suggested a trip to the ocean she had imagined a wild untamed and rugged wind swept coast line, weather whipped gnarly pines trees, tricky inhospitable walk tracks, soaring ocean birds. Instead the view before her, a huddle of pastel coloured beach abodes, ice-cream-slurping, pale skinned families and a low sulky swell, dribbled damp across her heart and snuffed her hopes.
She climbed out of the car and shaded her eyes against the pale yellow sun slinking low in the hazy blue sky to the west. She tried to bite back her lack of interest lest it swirl into a sarcastic slap of anger and kill their relationship forever. Boredom barked in the pit of her stomach. She rubbed it back down.
Thomas smiled across the bonnet of the car. “Well what d’ya think?”
“Oh yeah,” she said, looking away from him, trying to bury her deeper need to just cry. “It’s a bit different to what I expected.”
“So what were you expecting then?” he asked, as he pulled the keys from the ignition and pushed the door closed.
“I dunno. Something a bit more remote I guess.”
Thomas laughed. “We’re just stopping for ice cream. Thought I’d show you where I spent most of my summers as a kid. We’ll carry on up the coast. I just know you’re going to love it. Cheer up Grace.”
Grace looked down along from the beach.
“Forget the ice cream. Let’s get wet. I dare ya. Straight in, clothes and all. Ready?”
Thomas tossed the keys over to Grace. “Chuck ’em in ya bag,” he smiled and ran across the car park.
“Not fair” she yelled in quick pursuit.
Breathless at the waters edge they kicked their sandals off in unison. Yellow light drank the edge of the quiet Atlantic, and rippled gold. Steely blue beckoned. Salty air licked cheeks and lips. Thickness of water gripped their calves and swallowed jeans and cotton shirts. Laughter sunk beneath their first shared dive into the watery unknown. Grace emerged first, blurry eyed and beaming with a rush of adventure.
Thomas grabbed her waist from behind and pulled her back under. They tossed beneath the frothy film of their playfulness and found each other’s salty lips. An intense underwater kiss. Lungs emptied into bubbles of nothingness. Bodies buoyant bobbed up and broke the surface.
Yet, they stayed embraced, stayed face to face, drenched and fully clothed. Madness broke the boredom.
“I love you,” she said.
“I know,” Thomas replied. ” I just got to make an effort and remind you sometimes.”
Dawn I really like how you described the beach so physically, and how it works on Grace to change her mood.
Evocative description. Now why does Grace come all unglued when the beach place turns out to be other than she expected? Looking forward to more.
Thanks Nancy.
Who knows where they came from and what comes next… I just make up little stories to respond to the prompt… 🙂
Practice.
Regards Dawn Atkin
Nice closure! Great phrase. A very romantic story in the beach. Thanks for sharing
Vivid descriptions. I see all the narrator sees. A roller coaster of emotions too, from disappointment to playfulness to passion. Nice ride! I’m curious about their relationship.
This is an excerpt from a novel I’m working on, in which the protagonist is currently being a (self-professed) lump of useless. I have serious doubts about her ‘voice’ and whether I’m making her too wishy-washy – which is holding me back from progressing further with the story as I consider rewriting the first 2 chapters.
Any feedback very much appreciated.
A section from one of the Letters to Reid.
There were tiny waves breaking along the shoreline and the sound of them filled my brain then washed out a whole lot of angst. I love that word. The more times you say it the stranger it sounds. Do it.
Angst. Angst. Angst. Angst. See what I mean?
I let a few tears out and the morning sun dried them instantly so I had salty lines etched into my already salty skin. I think it might have been my last cry.
All the blues and greens melted together through my blurry eyes and did soothing stuff to my insides and I took deep breaths through my nose then blew them out through my mouth, pretending the breaths were being snatched away by a giant green breathsnatcher who feeds on grief. He can have it. All of it.
The sea was so still; it made me want to swim out as far as I could and keep going forever.
Don’t worry, that sounds really dramatic and a big bit suicidal, but I’m not going to do anything daft – I couldn’t ever do that to my dad, or you or LittleBear – so really, don’t worry. I didn’t even go properly swimming cos I thought I might be tempted to float away and I knew I didn’t want to drown today. I will soon, (go swimming, not drown) once I’m sure I won’t let myself drift off into the middle of the Atlantic.
I feel numb now. Empty. Drained of emotion. It’s really quite a pleasant sensation. I imagine it’s similar to taking valium.
So, as it tends to, the still of dawn didn’t stay for long and the deserted beach soon filled up with nudists. Or naturists. What’s the difference? Anyway, whatever you call people who don’t like tanlines; why don’t they just sit or lie down, like normal people, instead of dangling and wobbling about all over the place? Naked and proud? Take a nap! Weirdos.
And they had the nerve to stare at me… cos I wasn’t naked? I don’t know the etiquette at nudist beaches – is it considered impolite to wear clothes?
It’s very free-associative, like a constant train of thought, or a journal entry. It does have an unfocused quality, as if the narrator doesn’t know what she wants or her place in the world. Maybe she’s uncomfortable in her own skin. Not sure if that’s a story problem cuz it depends on character’s arc and if other parts of the story have more focus, so that our time with her sets the stage for other things, like her transformation later. A novel strictly from her POV maybe hard to follow. Is this the story with the rapist?
It is, yes. The idea is that her side of the story’s told through letters she’s writing to her friend, and I wanted her to come across as drifty, muddled and suffering mood-swings, but I’ve reached the stage where if I sit and read a chunk of her letters I start feeling the urge to strangle her!
She does gradually find strength and focus, so her style changes, but I’m a bit concerned that if I was the reader I’d give up and bin it after a few pages of her drivel.
There’s another first person narrator, whose journal interlinks and provides a completely different angle – intended to build suspense – I’m just wondering whether I should revisit her letters and make them a bit snappier or start from scratch and make it a whole lot less complicated by writing the whole thing in third person.
Phew.
Thanks for your thoughts 🙂
Sounds complex. I think I’d move on, get your whole structure down, then take a look at her voice and see how you feel/what needs to be tweaked. Good luck!
Thanks, I’ll be needing it! Think I’m making it as hard for myself as I possibly can..
I hope I am not too late. I’m new, and a new writer. Let me know of anything that doesn’t work for you. I love the supportive environment here, and it compelled me to join in.
‘Talk to me, Stephanie, I want to hear you talk to me with your beautiful voice,’ Brian said seriously, his hand on the shift hopeful for hers.
Their hearts were newly broken. They had made it through the first emotions, but certain things were becoming apparent in the gravity that their days bore.
Stephanie was sad, but wearing a false smile and looking curiously toward the beach where she had spotted her two friends. ‘Oh Brian, you are the greatest and most handsome man I have ever known. I love you so so much much,’ with every word Erin tweaked her voice more and more to what she knew he liked, ‘you fit me like a key.’
Brian had decided and often thought that she had an edible voice like bright warm candy, and he thought this now. They were pulling up.
‘Feel better?’ Stephanie said sweetly, taking off her seatbelt.
‘Yup,’ Brian lied, ‘Now kiss me before we have to hang out with these two.’
Ocean’s view
When Abraham talked with God about his offspring, God showed him that he would have children as numerous as the stars in the sky and the sand on the seashore.
The seashore. A place, one would agree, with an ocean’s view. At times even under water, at times dry land. In other places of the bible, bad things come from the sea – just think of all the beasts in Revelations.
Or it is used as the place of doubt. A man wavering like the sea will never inherited the heavens.
Even non-believers – or in bible language heathens – are likened to the sea of humanity.
So Abraham’s offspring is of two kinds:
The sand of the sea, always wavering, just saved from the sea, with an ocean’s view. Always looking at what they are missing. Always feeling sorry for what they are not allowed to do any longer. Always restraining themselves – and the rest of the world – with laws and rules. Condemning others to justify themselves. And sometimes eben under water again.
And then there are the stars in the sky. Seated in heaven with Christ to reign. To reign in and through love, as who ever wants to be first shall serve the other. Seated above the daily circumstances. In Revelations, we see the sea of glass. Looking from the throne, down to earth, it is calm and flat just as a sea of glass. The storms that flood the sands of the seashore cannot even come close to the stars in the sky.
The new creation, the renewed earth does not even have an ocean. No ocean’s view. No sands on the seashore. Dry land and a clear sky.
I gladly sacrifice a great ocean’s view in favour of a victorious life. I am going to be a star in the sky, already am.
It would forever be known as “That
Summer,” where the blissful days were conjured lazily in the mind’s eye as
perfect; blue skies, white sand and the swishing warm sea water that pressed
softly onto the shoreline, in small restful waves. Those pastel coloured beach houses, faded by
the sea air, would be rejuvenated by memory into the brilliant hues that they
may once have been. Warm visions of the
ocean’s breeze would sweep the faded tinkle of laughter that had wafted through
the windows of the little pink beach house—and like the haunting glass chimes
that delicately sang ‘that summer’s’ song, were now only faded echoes in time. Dreams of fragrant beach air, rich with
summer’s warmth could, to this day, fill their heads and hearts with the salty
sweetness of ‘that summer.’ It was “That
Summer,” yes, that summer of youth and laughter; that summer before life pulled
at the tethers of joy, to stretch and distort it. And the golden sunlight that summer, caressed
the bronzed skin and the rainbow coloured bikinis—now remembered as shimmering
in an angelic light, not completely lost but edging ever closer to being a warn
photograph of the past. Wanderings
through ‘that summer’ brought visions of wild sun kissed hair, matted with salt
water and ocean drenched faces, sprinkled with white sand dust; smiling; always
smiling—the cares of life lost to the tides.
At the windows of the pink beach house, the fat blue awnings billowed in
the evening breeze, whomping and whooping in tidal tones that soothed, and were
heard once again on this dreary afternoon, as the beauty of that summer’s
sweetness floated past in the flickering fire that fought against November’s
endless chill. The imaginings of that
golden summer, like the bag of sea glass collected along the beach, are
softened at the edges, and washed to perfection by the ocean of time.
Really? Thanks! I appreciate the reply 🙂
He was breathing hard, but he wasn’t tired enough enough from running down the beach to get the thoughts out of his head. It was one of those days, he had woken up early to stand at the bus stop with his surfboard tucked under his shoulder. The sun just peaking through the clouds, and though it was summer it didn’t kiss his skin as he would like.
“I’m a little too pale for this I should have prepared. I wish I still had my tanning membership.”
He took a short bus ride to the train station just to be denied entry on the train, it was 40 long miles from the beach and a heavy surfboard and 1970’s skateboard weren’t going to cut it. Though their loyalty gave him tempting desires for a story to tell later on.
Before long he was being questioned by an overweight black woman on another bus bound to orange county, he wasn’t sure if she wanted to take him home and fuck him or if she was just lonely and wanted to talk, maybe a mix of both.
It wasn’t too long before he was on the beach and after a decent time surfing, he was tired and was craving another breakfast burrito from the sketchy mexican restaurant that had too many yelp reviews of people complaining of food poisoning.
His mind wandered to places it shouldn’t just as the children that drifted too far out into the ocean and made worried mothers call out to lifeguards and cause a scene. he waited patiently for the text and before he was worried about making it home it had arrived.
It read : “Hey, I have to see you today, I don’t care where you are.”
He set up his ride home and the sex that followed, it made it almost mundane, the predictability of it all. It was a done deal though, which is expected after 4 years of “dating” the same person.
His eyes meet a beautiful black hair girl, she had pale skin, tattoos and light eyes, the were a mix of corral and the deep blue ocean. He was lost, He imagines their lives together, the pick up line he would use, the first date that would start the relationship with, meeting her upper class parents and making a good impression yet holding his bad boy image.
….but it is time to go home, she’s found him, she’s here to bring him back to his reality. She is here to make him fall asleep on the way home in hopes that he will dream of the girl with corral eyes and the escape having to explain his day to someone that wont understand the underground details. She is the killer. “I love you babe.”