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Tiaras and Trucks

Friday, February 10, 2012

Blocking the Moon

He propped himself up on one elbow, warm sand pressing dampness against the blanket though the forecasted storm was circling in the clouds hanging low above the water, the thunder miles away. He jerked awkwardly, trying to button his jeans with one hand and losing his balance.  For a moment something like love shot through her indifference.

“I’m glad we came here tonight,” he spoke too soon, his familiar voice slicing through her affection and reminding her that high school was over.

Without artifice, she slid her arms into bra straps and reached around to fasten the airy lace, absently shrugging on her tank top and abandoning the matching scrap of a thong to the darkness beyond the blanket.

He reached out to touch her thigh, his thumb brushing sand from her skin, the pale glow a reminder that she rarely came to the beach before dusk.

With unwarranted cruelty, she met his eyes with a level glance and smoothed her skirt back to her knees, pushing his hand aside and looking to the sky as the moonlight darkened.

His hand hung in the air for a moment, snagged in the humidity between hope and hurt feelings, his eyes following hers to where clouds now blocked the moon.

Lost in the twenty-seven day countdown between tonight and forever, she didn’t notice the nearness of the thunder until the first drops fell into the space between them, the summer rain dripping warm tears onto her skin.

He moved quickly and surely, grabbing his shirt to hold over her head, though it didn’t make a difference, lightning flashing as rain poured in rivulets around the island of their blanket.

Still, he held the shirt above her, the soaked cotton falling heavily against her hair.

She knew he wanted her to stay.

She knew he thought he loved her.

Without speaking, she finally met his eyes again, seeing the confusion there, the promises they’d made to each other since freshman year pleading with her.

It wasn’t love, but he would have to realize that on his own.

Finally he tossed the shirt aside, defeated, his eyes far away.

The almost-love washed over her and she embraced the tenderness, letting it speak for her as she touched his face, her palm tilting into the memorized planes of his jaw.

She felt his promises and hope in the urgency of his lips, and she closed her eyes, wondering if he could taste the goodbye in hers.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood
the prompt:
lots of rules for this one, but basically I wrote about a recent high school graduate, at the lake during a thunderstorm, losing or finding something

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20 Comments:

  • At February 10, 2012 at 6:32 AM , Anonymous J. Bruno said...

    Excellent.  I could feel everything.  The dampness from the blanket, the water soaked shirt over her head.  Such a pretty, heart wrenching piece.

     
  • At February 10, 2012 at 7:06 AM , Anonymous KathleenBasi said...

    Such a vivid emotion evoked in this piece. The language is beautiful, and some of the turns of phrase downright savory: "For a moment something like love shot through her indifference." "She felt his promises and hope in the urgency of his lips, and she closed her eyes, wondering if he could taste the goodbye in hers." At a couple points the gorgeous prose stretched into long sentences that I had to slow down to process, but it was a beautiful read.

     
  • At February 10, 2012 at 7:44 AM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Thank you so much :) 

    (And thank you for being kind in saying, "Shorten your sentences woman!" You're right, of course.  I know it's something I do.  So thanks for sticking with the long phrases!)

     
  • At February 10, 2012 at 7:44 AM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Thanks Jen :) 

     
  • At February 10, 2012 at 8:54 AM , Anonymous idiosyncratic eye said...

    Great piece, I love your take on losing something.  Are eighteen year olds really that deep?  Scary.  ;)

     
  • At February 10, 2012 at 9:06 AM , Anonymous Lance said...

    I'm glad someone else said shorten your sentences. I love choppy sentence structure and despise commas. HA!
    Angela 
    seriously I love the feel of this entire thing. Other than the first sentence being long, the whole story is terrific. This is moody without being emo. It's deep without being maudlin.

    The last paragraph is cash money.

     
  • At February 10, 2012 at 2:02 PM , Anonymous Kelly K @ Writing with Chaos said...

    Wow, only the last number was different for us. It's amazing how one difference altered our directions. :-)

    The biggest critique I have is three paragraphs began with "With or Without".

    My favorite line, "His hand hung in the air for a moment, snagged in the humidity between hope and hurt feelings, his eyes following hers to where clouds now blocked the moon."

     
  • At February 10, 2012 at 4:47 PM , Blogger Kir said...

    I love the name of this, and the language was poetic and thoughtful.

    I had to read it twice to really get all the words and when I did, that second time I was blown away at the maturity of the writing, the deepness of it.

    I like your long sentences...xoxo

     
  • At February 10, 2012 at 7:39 PM , Anonymous Nancy C said...

    My goodness, the tenderness of that gesture...as he protects her from something so much bigger than both of them.

    There's a symbol there.

    It's an interesting dynamic. Why does she have all the power?

    I agree with the other comments regarding wordy sentences, But yet? The relationship and the connection is there.

    And I dig it.

     
  • At February 10, 2012 at 10:58 PM , Anonymous Shelton Keys Dunning said...

    The last line, totally my favorite. The whole scene was rich with imagery that I could sink my teeth into. Nicely played.

     
  • At February 11, 2012 at 12:29 PM , Anonymous Jessica@Team Rasler said...

    Lovely and sad.  The "unwarranted cruelty" she has at the beginning is at odds with her tender goodbye at the end.  Made me feel how very confused and disappointed the boy would be.

     
  • At February 11, 2012 at 9:29 PM , Anonymous Cameron (CDG) said...

    Oh, that poor sweet deluded boy... but I'm glad for her that she's finding what she wants, what she needs.

     
  • At February 12, 2012 at 9:10 AM , Anonymous Angela said...

    I think some of them are.  At least in flashes and moments.

     
  • At February 12, 2012 at 9:10 AM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Thanks so much.  I loved that part, too :)

     
  • At February 12, 2012 at 9:12 AM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Thanks Nancy.  I can work on the wordiness. 

    I think she has the power because she's the one who knows where she wants to go.  She's probably known for a long time, and leaving for college was always at least slightly more important than anything she feels for him.

     
  • At February 12, 2012 at 9:12 AM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Thanks Lance :)  I'll chop it up a little!

     
  • At February 12, 2012 at 9:17 AM , Anonymous Angela said...

    I know, poor guy; I don't think he even realizes yet how different their visions for the future actually look.

     
  • At February 12, 2012 at 9:18 AM , Anonymous Angela said...

    I think it's a tough push and pull for her.  She absolutely cares about him, just not as much as she cares about her future plans for herself.  Which is absolutely ok for an eighteen year old, but it's still not fun for him.

     
  • At February 12, 2012 at 9:19 AM , Anonymous Angela said...

    Thank you for the with/without comment.  I hadn't even noticed that. 

    I'm loving the different directions these prompts are going.  It's funny how people do such amazingly different things with the same elements.

    (And thanks; I liked that line, too!)

     
  • At February 13, 2012 at 4:38 PM , Anonymous Cheryl said...

    I loved this, Angela! i love it when it's the guy who's in that position. You set the mood really well. 

     

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