Sticks and Stones and Rising Voices
twelve
Ione's words were stuck in the desert of her throat. She wanted to purge her pain. She wanted nothing more than to be by his side, to hold him up. She stood atop the dunes. The sea drifted to and fro, waiting to grab a hold of her bones. She slung away her shirt and kicked away her shorts, and the gulls screamed for her. They chanted their grief, wishing her to stop. She stood in her black lace, teasing the tide with her toes.
This wasn't the first time she stood on these shores ready to jump. And she doubted it would be her last. Her thick tongue licked at her parched lips like sandpaper on skin, catching each groove. The gulls cried out again, swooping close to her, trying to run her back home. She ran. Her heels dug into the soft sand and it collected beneath her nails. Her arms opened and she greeted the sea as an old friend.
"Take me!
Take me!" she spat.
She stood waist high in the swells, rocking back and forth with the pull of gravity, with her arms held out like Christ's. Her reddened eyes scoured the horizon, searching for her one miracle. She bit into her lip and her face wrinkled. Another swell rocked her back a step and her arms fell a notch. She was pulled forward a step like a puppet of the moon. Her knees knocked beneath the water and she didn't have the courage to stay standing as the next swell pushed the breath from her and she tumbled into the sea's hands.
The sea returned her to the shore, slightly more worn. She lay on her back and the sand molded to her form. The water ran over her limbs, whispering words of encouragement. Her hand spread the salt over her face, burning in the open wound.
"Take me." she cracked.
This wasn't the first time she stood on these shores ready to jump. And she doubted it would be her last. Her thick tongue licked at her parched lips like sandpaper on skin, catching each groove. The gulls cried out again, swooping close to her, trying to run her back home. She ran. Her heels dug into the soft sand and it collected beneath her nails. Her arms opened and she greeted the sea as an old friend.
"Take me!
Take me!" she spat.
She stood waist high in the swells, rocking back and forth with the pull of gravity, with her arms held out like Christ's. Her reddened eyes scoured the horizon, searching for her one miracle. She bit into her lip and her face wrinkled. Another swell rocked her back a step and her arms fell a notch. She was pulled forward a step like a puppet of the moon. Her knees knocked beneath the water and she didn't have the courage to stay standing as the next swell pushed the breath from her and she tumbled into the sea's hands.
The sea returned her to the shore, slightly more worn. She lay on her back and the sand molded to her form. The water ran over her limbs, whispering words of encouragement. Her hand spread the salt over her face, burning in the open wound.
"Take me." she cracked.