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Literature Text
We make our way to the beach just after the sun has set for the night. The darkening sky is a deep rich blue, slowly fading into black, with no moon in sight. Below it, the waves of the ocean shimmer iridescently as they slowly surge and crash before retreating from the beach floor. We step out onto the white powder sand of the beach. It gives way under our weight and leaves impressions behind for us to use as a guide on our way back. As we approach the calm beach waters, we can see a smattering of sandpipers who haven't yet nested for the night, chasing and retreating from the waves as they search for sand fleas at the water's edge.
A slight breeze fills our senses with the heavy smell of salt as we revel in the quiet of the night. The only sound is that of the breaking of the waves, as everyone else has long vacated the beach for the comfort of their homes. Leaving it empty and with a sense of the forbidden. We step cautiously into the water, testing for temperature and ready to retreat from the cold. Yet, we are pleasantly surprised by a comfortably cool sensation that feels nice in contrast to the long hot days of summer. We dare to wade in a bit further, laughing at each other as we do. Once we are settled at a safe distance, close to the coast and not too deep, we lounge in the caressing waters. We speak softly, in hushed tones, as if afraid to disturb the night around us. There is a certain rush gained by swimming in the darkness when one cannot see beneath the water's surface. It is here as we swim in muted joy that we notice a strange glow emanating from the water from each move we make. Startled, yet amazed, we take to moving our arms and feet and the water sparkles a unique green with every new twist and turn of our limbs. The bioluminescence of algae makes each movement a dance of sparkling light that we playfully refer to as swimming in starlight.
A slight breeze fills our senses with the heavy smell of salt as we revel in the quiet of the night. The only sound is that of the breaking of the waves, as everyone else has long vacated the beach for the comfort of their homes. Leaving it empty and with a sense of the forbidden. We step cautiously into the water, testing for temperature and ready to retreat from the cold. Yet, we are pleasantly surprised by a comfortably cool sensation that feels nice in contrast to the long hot days of summer. We dare to wade in a bit further, laughing at each other as we do. Once we are settled at a safe distance, close to the coast and not too deep, we lounge in the caressing waters. We speak softly, in hushed tones, as if afraid to disturb the night around us. There is a certain rush gained by swimming in the darkness when one cannot see beneath the water's surface. It is here as we swim in muted joy that we notice a strange glow emanating from the water from each move we make. Startled, yet amazed, we take to moving our arms and feet and the water sparkles a unique green with every new twist and turn of our limbs. The bioluminescence of algae makes each movement a dance of sparkling light that we playfully refer to as swimming in starlight.
Literature
Not My Kind of Fairy Tale
Don't give me the Knight
Whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the Knight,
Whose armor is dull and broken.
Whose horse is weary,
Whose heart is heavy.
Give me the Knight who looks at the dragon with pity,
For that dragon has done nothing,
And is just as imprisoned as the princess he guards.
Don't give me a princess who only wishes to be saved,
By that Knight whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the princess who wishes to escape yes,
But wants to free the dragon,
Who does not wish to marry her savior--
Nay, give me the princess who wants to explore,
Who wants to live and to learn.
For the years of imprisonment only made her yearn,
Not
Literature
The Girl Who Was Afraid To Be
She speaks to me fondly
of passions and talents,
of guitars and stars,
with such breathless intensity
then stops short and
apologises
for speaking at all.
All because somewhere in her life,
someone she loved broke her heart
by ignoring
her beautiful words
and telling her to
shut up,
keep it down,
nobody cares.
People aren’t born sad.
We make them that way.
Literature
Big Sister
I am not my sister's keeper.
she is a lock-pick, a file system
of assorted secrets
spilled across the couch like a
a jar of sequins and buttons
I am not my sister's keeper.
But I hold her hair back while she pukes,
and break the news to her evenly
waiting for the decline of her wailing
like the tumbling of retreating curls on
ocean docks.
She swings her feet off the edge,
I build her wings.
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A scene setting I wrote for my creative writing class. I was inspired by a recent memory but I lost points for failing to specify the exact location. Overall, I am happy with the work even though teacher said it seemed cut off at the end, I simply thought that was a good place to end the scene.
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You have gorgeous imagery! It's all quite so stunning, I have to applaud you for composing such a beautifully detailed piece!