Our words swiftly swished in the air like a pair of dancers crossing paths and refusing the let go of the other. My words float into Sam’s ears in a hushed whisper. “Why must we wait for the sun to warm our skin? It’s too harsh for our pale skin to bare. The moon glows in the sky with it’s fellow stars. They’ll be stuck in the sky for our eyes to view every nigh in this canoe. Let us drift into the sky for the moon to claim us as a star.”
Floating in a sea of conversation and muted sound, like a wary traveler amongst the dark sea of past lives. Our senses were confused and blurred vision. Fuzzy in the dark sea of wondrous empty souls of thoughts who lived before and breathed our same air.
“But Carol”, Sam argues, ” The moon’s light isn’t able to nurture us as a child of the earth as the sun does. Her radiance, though abrupt and intrusive, brings colour to our skin so we may be a warm soul. Allow her into your life like you would the moon. Both have equal significance which have accustomed to our presence in their universe.”
Our heads rock back and forth in the ocean. Nothing was visible but the stars and moon which would eventually be overtaken by the sun. Her rosy cheeks blushed pure red, permanently stained. It was alarming caused by the cold change in climate. The cold water felt like an dose with adrenaline.
Describe Sam as an Otter. merge portrait.
Copyright 2017 Sanjana Khusal