Gray Sunset
This is something I wrote for creative writting class last semester. Its really good, tell me what you think.
*Gray Sunset*
It was cold and gray. The sand crunched hollowly beneath my heels and that was the only sound. The ocean was still; motionless and gray, like the sky. I couldn’t even see the line between them. Just cold; empty; gray. Empty and cold. Cold and gray. Gray and Alone. Alone. I was alone, walking with the constant crunchcrunchcrunch of my boots on the frozen sand. Alone with the empty sky and the pale sea. Just the sea and me.
The small rackety fishing town creaked and groaned in the frozen wind. Christmas lights, half working, tried desperately to pierce the dull gray, but instead looked like ugly earrings on the ugly faces of the rotting houses.
Just the gray sky, the gray sea, and the ugly gray houses with the flashing green and red earrings. Always the crunchcrunchcrunch of boot on sand. Cold gray sand. Cold gray and empty. Just like the rest of it. Cold gray and alone.
Even the wind was gray. It blew and froze and groaned, but only because the silence without it might swallow the world. It would swallow the beach, and the sea, and the ugly fishing houses, and the lonely man that only added gray.
I looked down and cursed. Even I was a monotonous gray. Mud-gray boots, rain-cloud gray pants, old-age gray sweater, and corpse gray hands. Gray hands, lifeless and cold from the wind.
Not even a gull could work up the courage to caw. It was simply to dull and too gray a Christmas to waste a moment of heat.
The beach seamed to go on forever. Miles of the same bleak, monochrome, nothingness. A light snow began to fall and the crunchcrunch was muffled to a phutphut. The sun began to sink like a big bloody disk. I imagined being here when the sky was gold and the ocean rang with laughter at the suns playful ways. I could see it.
I stopped and closed my eyes, and imagined the sunset. Gold and red and purple. Bright, brilliant, magnificent colors, brushed on my cold gray canvas. The ocean danced and glowed with life. I could feel the warmth on my face and hands. Cold December warmth. A Christmas gift beyond all Christmas gifts.
I blinked my eyes. I blinked my eyes from open to closed and open again. They had never been closed before.
Before me, broken from the bleak world, was the sunset, vibrant and alive. Bright golds and reds, flecked with puffs of passing clouds. Deep and bold greens and blues and purples tinted the coming night. I could feel the warmth on my face. I could hear carols sung in the distance.
I was never alone. I had the sky and the sand and the sea beside me. I had the soft gentle kiss of snowflakes. I had the wind running its fingers through my hair.
I turned and cupped my hands, and called to my children. They ran towards me with joyful sunsets reflected in their eyes. We all sat in sand together and sat there still when the sun moved on to warm the faces of another family and the stars came to wish us good-night.
*Gray Sunset*
It was cold and gray. The sand crunched hollowly beneath my heels and that was the only sound. The ocean was still; motionless and gray, like the sky. I couldn’t even see the line between them. Just cold; empty; gray. Empty and cold. Cold and gray. Gray and Alone. Alone. I was alone, walking with the constant crunchcrunchcrunch of my boots on the frozen sand. Alone with the empty sky and the pale sea. Just the sea and me.
The small rackety fishing town creaked and groaned in the frozen wind. Christmas lights, half working, tried desperately to pierce the dull gray, but instead looked like ugly earrings on the ugly faces of the rotting houses.
Just the gray sky, the gray sea, and the ugly gray houses with the flashing green and red earrings. Always the crunchcrunchcrunch of boot on sand. Cold gray sand. Cold gray and empty. Just like the rest of it. Cold gray and alone.
Even the wind was gray. It blew and froze and groaned, but only because the silence without it might swallow the world. It would swallow the beach, and the sea, and the ugly fishing houses, and the lonely man that only added gray.
I looked down and cursed. Even I was a monotonous gray. Mud-gray boots, rain-cloud gray pants, old-age gray sweater, and corpse gray hands. Gray hands, lifeless and cold from the wind.
Not even a gull could work up the courage to caw. It was simply to dull and too gray a Christmas to waste a moment of heat.
The beach seamed to go on forever. Miles of the same bleak, monochrome, nothingness. A light snow began to fall and the crunchcrunch was muffled to a phutphut. The sun began to sink like a big bloody disk. I imagined being here when the sky was gold and the ocean rang with laughter at the suns playful ways. I could see it.
I stopped and closed my eyes, and imagined the sunset. Gold and red and purple. Bright, brilliant, magnificent colors, brushed on my cold gray canvas. The ocean danced and glowed with life. I could feel the warmth on my face and hands. Cold December warmth. A Christmas gift beyond all Christmas gifts.
I blinked my eyes. I blinked my eyes from open to closed and open again. They had never been closed before.
Before me, broken from the bleak world, was the sunset, vibrant and alive. Bright golds and reds, flecked with puffs of passing clouds. Deep and bold greens and blues and purples tinted the coming night. I could feel the warmth on my face. I could hear carols sung in the distance.
I was never alone. I had the sky and the sand and the sea beside me. I had the soft gentle kiss of snowflakes. I had the wind running its fingers through my hair.
I turned and cupped my hands, and called to my children. They ran towards me with joyful sunsets reflected in their eyes. We all sat in sand together and sat there still when the sun moved on to warm the faces of another family and the stars came to wish us good-night.