Looking Glass: an Anthology (bi-weekly updates)

Daughter of the Ocean

The sun slinks beneath the horizon, albeit languidly.

The wind coasts by,

carrying with it the whispered secrets and twilight trysts of this heartening season.

Below and as far as the eye can see:

the ocean.

Waves brush up against the jagged rocks bordering the grey stone turret,

and immediately surge away bashfully to the open water.

Raw, undisturbed beauty.

I stand near the window at the top of the turret,

watching the autumn day descend into its slumber,

paving the way for an equally enticing autumn night.

I look to the waves.

They seem harsher today,

bolder.

Tonight is a full moon.

I laugh at the simplicity of it all.

I am drawn to these powerful waves,

yet they are drawn to the humble moon.

I've always loved this turret.

The window is not so much a window as it is a gaping aperture in the wall.

It reaches a yard above my head and below my hands.

I often come here to watch the setting sun ripple orange light across the ocean.

Beau has always hated this turret.

Or rather, this window.

He believes it to be much too dangerous.

But he has never made to board it up,

for he knows how much I love it,

and he loves me.

Beau had caught me sitting on the ledge of the window once,

captivated by the view.

But he had not shared my sentiments.

No.

Beau had been livid.

He'd hauled me back to the center of the turret,

and made me swear to never step foot onto the ledge again.

I swore to him,

if only for his peace of mind.

My gaze is drawn to the waves again.

They shimmer under the light of the setting sun.

Simply –

"Beautiful.", a voice breathes.

I whirl around quickly,

but there is no one.

Perhaps I need to lie down.