Once I Saw a Mermaid Fair
WHO: Aziza y Atthis
WHEN: June the twelfth, the twilight hours
WHERE: The beach
WHAT: A night, the night, what a night~! To swim, perchance, to be stumbled upon in compromising situations~
RATING: N for Nudity, A for Awkward, D for Dubious intent
Waves, the cresting pattern of sound, the accumulation of equation, the length of light particles, the physical manifestation that pounded stone to sand day to week to month to year, century to millenniums. On them armadas of brightly painted ships had set sail to wars, fish mongers continued to sweep their boats along ancient harbors and men, women, children swam where their ancestors swam, bathed where their predecessors bathed.
The ocean was constant in its existence. Unlike language, unlike the human heart. It would change in the way it had always changed but even in its shifts- gargantuan storms, rare shimmering flashes of green- it would only ever be the predictable.
Within such an immutable presence, beneath the fading light of day passing on its dominion to the lunar light of night, a sleek tan form broke the surface of the water, rode the rhythm of the waves.
Too much time had passed with spiritual tedium in the land of retail sales and worldly responsibilities. It had left Atthis thirsting for serenity, a temporary release, at least, to rid her of the boredom that clung with all the fermenting negativity of 'hate'. She had stood at her balcony- alone, always alone- watching the sun setting in dazzling violets, pinks and reds when a glance at the empty sands below had finally shattered her resolve.
Clothing shed at the very edge of the shore, she had run until she could run no further, for that the ocean swallowed her whole. Now, nearly an hour later, the sea coursing over her skin, her being, she swam languidly rather than desperately. Floated on peacefully, blessing whoever had sectioned off the part of the beach behind the complex and labeled it 'Private' before taking in a deep, heavy breath and sinking beneath the surface once more.
WHEN: June the twelfth, the twilight hours
WHERE: The beach
WHAT: A night, the night, what a night~! To swim, perchance, to be stumbled upon in compromising situations~
RATING: N for Nudity, A for Awkward, D for Dubious intent
Waves, the cresting pattern of sound, the accumulation of equation, the length of light particles, the physical manifestation that pounded stone to sand day to week to month to year, century to millenniums. On them armadas of brightly painted ships had set sail to wars, fish mongers continued to sweep their boats along ancient harbors and men, women, children swam where their ancestors swam, bathed where their predecessors bathed.
The ocean was constant in its existence. Unlike language, unlike the human heart. It would change in the way it had always changed but even in its shifts- gargantuan storms, rare shimmering flashes of green- it would only ever be the predictable.
Within such an immutable presence, beneath the fading light of day passing on its dominion to the lunar light of night, a sleek tan form broke the surface of the water, rode the rhythm of the waves.
Too much time had passed with spiritual tedium in the land of retail sales and worldly responsibilities. It had left Atthis thirsting for serenity, a temporary release, at least, to rid her of the boredom that clung with all the fermenting negativity of 'hate'. She had stood at her balcony- alone, always alone- watching the sun setting in dazzling violets, pinks and reds when a glance at the empty sands below had finally shattered her resolve.
Clothing shed at the very edge of the shore, she had run until she could run no further, for that the ocean swallowed her whole. Now, nearly an hour later, the sea coursing over her skin, her being, she swam languidly rather than desperately. Floated on peacefully, blessing whoever had sectioned off the part of the beach behind the complex and labeled it 'Private' before taking in a deep, heavy breath and sinking beneath the surface once more.