Sea: The Afternoon

I sat down on a bench - under a tree - at lunch today and picked up pen and paper. Initially, I was going to write a letter to a friend (yes, I'm one of those people, still handwriting letters. It's just that these days I have the strong urge to include 's in my letters...) Anyway, I ended up just writing whatever came to mind, beginning with the things I saw and heard, and seeing where it took me. This is the result - unedited and probably uninteresting to anyone but me.

(NB When I get to a point where I'm attempting to describe something and can't quite put my finger on the turn of phrase I'm looking for, I tend to jot down fragments - words that will evoke the image when I read it back, so if it gets a little disjointed, that's what's happening).

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Sitting outside waiting for my maths class to begin. It's a warm day - a little too warm. This would be more successful if I could imbue my words with a suspicious tone. And beady eyes. The weather is suspicious. Lurking. Not like the people.

There aren't many people on campus right now. I can only see one other person. Perhaps everyone else knows what the weather's up to. The girl is sitting at a table, alone, but talking on a phone. She's wearing sun glasses. My uneasiness for impending weather's plots heighten.

Me, I'm just sitting here drinking a can of V - caffeinated goodness! A siren is blasting in the distance. It's not as ominous as the weather. The siren is drowned out by the sounds of other traffic and jangling keys as someone else arrives and walks to the head office. Oh! I see some other dude off in the distance. He's wearing a searingly bright yellow shirt. And it looks like he's eating. I damn him for the shirt.

The clouds in the sky are thin and white - almost skeletal, but softer. Perhaps they're the bones of a wraith, bleached white and drifting over head. changing shape. formless. smattered. I see a dissipating ribcage...

Trees suddenly look like old, gnarled fingers of the earth, pale green leaves drifting on a moderate breeze like feelers, moving with the flow and current of water without substance. I wait for them to curl over, to attempt to grasp something.

If the wraith bones descended, became form: other, suitable for earth, would I drown? Stuck in the grip of a tree at the bottom of a new sea and wondering where my loved one is, if he's breathing.

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The bell rang, and I still have no idea how I got to drowning in wraith bones, because the trees/fingers grabbed a hold of me, just from not liking the warm weather. I'm pretty sure I don't want to, especially considering the next page is still blank.