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Very short stories to read at the bus stop.


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Beach Story (sappy stuff that I could not write these days)

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Winter. Dusk. The seaside. And I'm sitting here on these ice cold
pebbles beside you. The waves try to pound their path towards us,
fail, retreat, attack, fail, retreat, attack, fail, retreat, attack...

The beach is ours. For now anyway. Abandoned by the summer crowds with
their ice creams, buckets, soggy towels and freckles. Snuggle closer.
The stars pierce the heavy sackcloth curtain of sky with laser-beam
precision. Dazzling triumphant in the jet blackness of the advancing
night. Lay your head on my shoulder. The waves whisper and grumble as
they grind themselves into the shore. Fusing body of water with mass
of land.

Your hair falls soft against my face as the sea echoes in ripples
across the expanses to far off lands. We sit. We breath. We embrace.
The sea breeze brushes over the contours of your face, sweeping across
your nose, skimming over eyelids, kissing lips. And I think I'm happy.
More than happy. Sitting here. With you.

Posted by Helen

16th Jul 2008, 01:05   | tags:,,

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That photo needs to be the size of my living room wall. I should probably stop short of dumping a half-ton of sand on the floor, though.

"Sappy stuff" sounds like a kind of apology. You can't be sorry you wrote this, can you? You paint a pretty picture.

[*]

16th Jul 2008, 15:58

Helen says:

Well, I wouldn't have posted it if I was sorry I'd written it. But I don't think I could write like this now. It's probably something I need to rediscover. My sense of romance has taken a drastic tumble since my early 20s.

I would certainly like to get into the habit of writing and expressing myself again. I've become bogged down in the pursuit of maintaining a day-to-day existence.


The beach is Southwold. It's really lovely. One of my favourite places.

16th Jul 2008, 16:14

I've kinda lost touch with the romantic stuff too. There's nothing like too many years of being poor and working too hard to blunt the edge a bit.

I have to get to a point where I feel all the crises are over before I can get to that place again....

[*]

16th Jul 2008, 17:13

jc1000000 says:

I like that! Thanks for posting it - tiz such a pleasure when new stories fly in, i can't tell ya!

I really really like the way that the sense of a borderless, internal haven (the last being possibly my favourite word ever) creeps into the text through the repitition of the waves advancing, retreating, and advancing again. It's like the mighty sea is powerless, nay inert, against the circle of protection around you. Echoes back to me a fable of the sun and wind challenging each other to make a wanderer take their coat off: The wind gusts as hard as possible to sweep his coat away but the wanderer just pulls it tighter around them. The sun then shines as brightly as possible and... well you can guess the rest.

And what is love if it doesn't sit effortlessly in the gaps between each thing and reverse the tide of everything? LOL now you got me all sappy.

See, you just caused at least two other people to reflect on romance (& I hope that more join in). Nothing day-to-day about that - as you say, perhaps it's just a matter of perspective and in fact it's all still there...

Romance, for everyone (although i can only speak for myself), is such a big formless concept to deal with, yet we all seem to characterize it through small, specific actions. Rather than force yourself to develop a writing habit, maybe you can just bring a single focus when the mood takes you?

And the subtext of that rehetoric is - more more more! We want more! :D

16th Jul 2008, 23:50

Viv says:

and when you feel like this again without the ifs and buts intruding .....

I don't want to say anymore x

27th Apr 2009, 01:02