Everything Fades

The ocean is swallowing the sun. 

She watches it sink down, feels the rays graze her legs then slip away. Goosebumps begin to form as the darkness trails along the beach and leaves shadows instead of footprints. The air, once thick with heat, catches its breath. The shushing sound of the surf reminds her of her mother consoling her the first time she got stung by a jellyfish, or cut her hand on a shell, or burned her feet on the sand. 

She pulls the blanket tighter around her, though with all its holes it barely does anything. It has been dragged up and down the beach, fought over, and chewed on too many times. The smell of her dog is disappearing; instead, it smells more of salt, like everything in the house. Suddenly, her eyes fill with tears. Everything fades. The house, the people, the memories. Even the beach was being washed away as the waves crept up the sand. Just like the sun, whose light—as she watched dusk become night—was just an idea underwater. 

Posted in response to the challenge Seaside.



16 years old

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