Crayola Skies
seashells
Pools of aqua blue and deep, ocean green swirled together in perfect currents, flecks of the lightest fall leaves so vibrant in their mesmerizing circle. The blackest void that existed in the world tried so desperately to inhale the currents of the sea, drag them to its core, and devour them. But they twisted and twirled around it, avoiding it like dancers of a beautiful melody. There was white as well – the nothing that seemed to serve no purpose. And yet, without its guard, the sea would mesh into all else, and create no work of art deserving to be looked upon.
Golden sunshine cascaded over the waters, magnifying their radiance to look like precious gems. They twinkled like gems even without the light. The buttery yellow dipped in and out of focus, the wind blowing it off course, out of sight. Pale, pale sand brushed around the colors, curving and contouring into marvelous masterpieces. And there was that white again – so radiant and almost blinding as it formed the stones. Perfect stones that sat in such precise rows in the dip in the sand – beautifully surrounded by the thinnest of pink seashells all lined up.
“Axel?” the seashells whispered, curving upward, all ranks following suit. The white shells dazzled towards him, transforming into glistening pearls before his eyes. The seas shone bright, twinkling like the stars above them, the sunshine still blowing with the movements of the wind.
Axel shook his head, smiling – his own pink seashells curving upward. And the colors in front of him morphed back into the masterpiece that he would always love so much more. The sunshine was his buttery hair, swaying in the soft night air once again. And the oceans of blue and green and autumn leaves pulled together the void and the nothing and there were only eyes – perfect, shining eyes. And the sand melted down and fashioned his smooth, porcelain skin: washing and swirling around curves and cheekbones. And the seashells of delicate pink were his lips: so thin and frail. The stones his dazzling smile once more. And, somehow, all the colors in the world couldn’t have painted a more beautiful picture.
The stars twinkled their milky white against the purplish black curtain of the world, as the colorless wind swept through the sunshine yet again.
Golden sunshine cascaded over the waters, magnifying their radiance to look like precious gems. They twinkled like gems even without the light. The buttery yellow dipped in and out of focus, the wind blowing it off course, out of sight. Pale, pale sand brushed around the colors, curving and contouring into marvelous masterpieces. And there was that white again – so radiant and almost blinding as it formed the stones. Perfect stones that sat in such precise rows in the dip in the sand – beautifully surrounded by the thinnest of pink seashells all lined up.
“Axel?” the seashells whispered, curving upward, all ranks following suit. The white shells dazzled towards him, transforming into glistening pearls before his eyes. The seas shone bright, twinkling like the stars above them, the sunshine still blowing with the movements of the wind.
Axel shook his head, smiling – his own pink seashells curving upward. And the colors in front of him morphed back into the masterpiece that he would always love so much more. The sunshine was his buttery hair, swaying in the soft night air once again. And the oceans of blue and green and autumn leaves pulled together the void and the nothing and there were only eyes – perfect, shining eyes. And the sand melted down and fashioned his smooth, porcelain skin: washing and swirling around curves and cheekbones. And the seashells of delicate pink were his lips: so thin and frail. The stones his dazzling smile once more. And, somehow, all the colors in the world couldn’t have painted a more beautiful picture.
The stars twinkled their milky white against the purplish black curtain of the world, as the colorless wind swept through the sunshine yet again.