United States


Over the past year, I defeated a fear of other people, learned the value of clarity and brevity, fought writer's block, and developed pride in my words.

Now I am a writer with a love for onomatopoeias and an affinity for semicolons.

Message to Readers

I write about the ocean a lot. I suppose, if I lived in the mountains, I would write about trees.

Any feedback is greatly appreciated!


September 15, 2018

    Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. A subtle, somber thought, really. Some of those ships see land again, coming to bring their precious cargo to those to which it belongs. Others, however, have other business to attend to. They remain on the sea; forever searching for that one last thing, that one last dream that will make a wish just that much more complete. And some never find it.

   A girl is standing on a dock. The ocean is glassy; the spray of the sea is cold an leaves a sticky film on her bare arms. She glances out over the water and is temporarily blinded by the brilliant sun reflected on the surface. Still she stands, even when a strong wind whips her skirts around her legs and threatens to knock her into the sea. She stares out to the horizon, searching the endless blue for the relief of a black silhouette of a ship. She is immovable; a familiar sight that is rarely noticed.
   The sun is setting; the sky is on fire and the sea is a mirror, cracking from the heat and showing the brilliance of blue underneath. The girl is an outline against the sky. There is no wind, and she watches as the sun slips below the horizon and darkness begins to flood the earth. Her boots are damp as she turns around and abandons her post, the light dimming with each passing second. The streetlamps turn on as she wanders home.
   It is a stormy morning. The waves are fighting with each other, each one struggling to break before the others. The girl's boots are wet from the occasional swell that reaches the dock. The sky is grey, and it begins to drizzle. She forgot an umbrella. Her hair is wet as she watches the drops disappear into the sea. She cannot distinguish the line where the sky meets the ocean.
   An old woman approaches from behind her, carrying an umbrella. She stands beside the girl and holds it over both of their heads. "You should really come inside, dear. You're catching a cold."
   The girl doesn't tear her eyes from the waves. "No thank you. I'm waiting for someone, you see. He'll be here any minute now."
   The woman sighs. "You've been out here every day for weeks now. You need to come inside."
   The girl shakes her head, a small smile forming on her lips. "Any minute now."


See History
  • September 15, 2018 - 6:38pm (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.