Crystal Waves

4.5.16 Passionate Red Serpent Wavespell

An empty expanse of beach, sands stretching out golden under the blue sky; quickly turning coral. Sun kissed sands reflecting the hues above whilst blue sky blazes swiftly orange, peach, crimson and magenta streaking before fading to dusk. Footprints firmly embed sands with five petaled markings that hold their shape. Shells dot the beach, bits of flickering scalloped edges adding texture to the smoothness. This evening the water makes mellow sounds where it gently rolls up to the shore in lacy curled waves, bubbles bouncing about the edges absorbed by sand, barely rolling back. Crystal clear water, transparent and shallow, lays thinly upon land; a veil that is glassy and imperceptible. Crystal blue star twinkles brightly in the now dark sky, Lady Moon has yet to return from where she’s withdrawn.

We walk this once upon a time expanse of beach, you and I, stopping to pick up a shell, hold it in hand and listen for its story. The world moves yet all is still except for our walk where there are no others, only you and I, sky, water, shell, and sand; the rising star.

Once upon a time, you begin shell in hand; once upon a time there was a boy who loved fishes. He lived far away in the mountains amidst trees and rocks and mosses and rivers, then one day he visited an aquarium where he saw fishes swimming for the first time. He reached out to touch them but cold glassy walls blocked his hand and puzzled him. He knocked at the barrier and tapped at it, and learned it was impenetrable, yet there were fishes obviously behind the wall. How could he reach them? He stood for hours observing them swimming about, when his parents tried to urge him away he dug his feet in firmly and refused to move, indeed became as immovable as rock, as mountain stiff and unyielding to their attempts to pick him up, surprisingly solid and heavy. They sat on a bench in resignation and waited for him to be done, after a while they began looking at the devices they each carried, read the news and made phone calls with other people, and forgot about their son. When enough time had passed in their estimation, they looked up and to their alarm he was nowhere to be seen. They searched everywhere for him, security was called, a panic ensued and he remained hidden. Toward evening a young girl watching the fishes swimming in their tanks let out a cry, she was pointing at something and a few people came to see then a few more until a crowd was gathered and excited exclamations were heard coming from all the people. There amongst the fishes inside the tank was the boy, except his skin had become scaly and he had gills and fins and a tail. He was swimming happily with fishes, moment to moment his scales changing hue and color to reflect the fish he swam with in their different shapes and forms. When they fished him out of the tank he was electric blue from head to hand to heel. They wrapped him in a towel and watched him slowly return to his usual plump pink self. He was smiling merrily, eyes twinkly and bright. He never said how he got into the fish tank nor did he speak about what happened there. When he returned to his home he began spending long days in the woods by the river, where fishermen would see him standing knee deep naked in crystal waters singing and catching rainbow fish and speckled fish in his bare blue hands, he’d hold them and caress them before releasing them in an electric flash. He’d begin his trek home under coral skies and return just as it was becoming dark, finding his way easily on the inkiest of balsamic nights. When asked where he’d been he’d reply, “fishing just fishing”.

We walk on you and I, each story coming from shell to lip, unfolding slowly out while I listen breathing deeply of salty air as we amble along. I would walk like this and listen to you forever while waves spread out like skirts beside us, quietly moving without interrupting moments in which you weave enchantment with your every breath and I am caught up in your spell. With each tale you tell, I know it is over when you skim the shell in your hand; electric it flashes on its flight back to the water and in that instant of light, kelp braids are twined in your hair, a wreath of alaria sits on your crown, a starfish on your forehead, and burgundy dulce hangs from your beard beaded with tritons, conches, corals, and pearls.

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