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At the Beach — Kaylaisweird’s response

Kaylaisweird is one of our new members, and this is her first response to one of our writing prompts.  Thanks for responding, Kayla!

I never wanted to come back here. Even just the thought of having to relive the past over again like this, sends a skin tingling shiver straight down the back of my spine. My fingers and hands feel as if I’ve been playing that Addams Family electro-shock game at Peter Piper Pizza for hours. I can barely stand minutes as it is. The sky is a sick looking pasty white-gray. It’s as if the gods had eaten and fallen asleep, waking up with that warm taste of icky comfort that resembles hot milk. I always told Alex that I really liked that taste; she hated it. We disagreed on most things, with her being only twelve and myself on my way to seventeen. Seventeen was the only number (the only thing, really) with which we actually had in common.

I was born on March 17th, she was born January 17th. When she crashed on her scooter, they had to use seventeen stitches for the cut on her skinny eight-year-old leg. I was attacked by a dog when I was only six—they put seventeen stitches underneath my left eye. Most girls my age would probably be elated to be at what is actually, a very beautiful beach. Sun-bathing in their skimpy bikini’s that they worked so hard to fit into over winter and spring. Playing beach volleyball with teams of boys vs. girls. Texting. Flirting with boys; I’ve never felt so many miles away from normalcy until this moment. It was almost four months ago today that Alex drowned in this very ocean. The smooth dark blue waves look so innocent and harmless now. My throat is coarse and dry, like the very sand with which I dig my fingers into now, slowly, methodically. I lie flat on my back on top of Alex’s High School Musical beach towel and try to count backwards from 1,000. Like we used to during thunderstorms. Once I feel my heart-rate slow and I get all the way down to one-hundred, I take a few calming breaths in and out, and I pull a Seventeen magazine from my beach bag and begin to read Alex her horoscope. I know she’s not really here, but, I can still feel her. I know, or feel, that she can feel me too.


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