Sign

Mackenzie Davis set us a challenge and I decided to write not one but two entries. There may be a third but some brain brewing needs to happen for that to occur!

Please note that the picture credit goes to GA Botero and what a wonderful photo it is.

You can read all about the challenge here:

There are lots of other people taking part and if you go there via the link above, the comments' section will reveal the entries to you. And there are some corkers! The link to my other entry is at the end of this piece.

***

She didn't know what she was going to do. Melissa was scared.

The harbour where she sat was vibrant with life. The sails of boats were playfully being wrestled by the wind and their contrast against the bright, bright blueness of the sky spoke of freshness and vitality and liberty. All of the things that she was not feeling.

The sun shone and she escaped from the intensity of her thoughts by looking about her. Children skipped on the spot excitedly next to parents as they were handed ice-cream; an elderly couple walked by, arm-in-arm, heads close together, shadows of the young lovers they were, maybe still are, playing on their lips as smiles and whispers; an athletic young man, baseball cap backwards and shirt tied around his waist weaved his way past on roller blades, shades hiding his eyes, his chest glistening in the heat.

All of these images compounded her misery: reminders of what she didn't have, wouldn't have.

They were over. Mel and Matt. Done. Finished. Split.

He didn't want her anymore. He had told her as much, maybe not as directly but the essence was the same: "I don't think it's working"; "I'm not happy, are you?"; "I think we need to move on."

I. I. I.

Melissa had never experienced such hurt in her life. Her chest shrank with it, tightening her lungs down to withered balloons, and her swollen heart, full of the bewilderment of loss, took the space to career endlessly, like a fly against glass, as it tried in its heaviness and its pounding to make sense of the assault on it.

He had left her here to clear out his things from their apartment before she got home. Told her to enjoy the rest of the holiday. She felt like it was planned. This intensified her hurt all the more. He had seemed distracted for weeks but she put that down to work, tiredness, stress. He accused her of being self-centred. She felt a fool.

She looked out into the distance as if she were peering into her future. The sea shimmered with optimism she could not grasp. The sun warmed her head and she caught the beauty of the day. She tried to hold it and feel it but it would not stay. She was glad she was wearing sunglasses as her eyes filled again.

She thought of her life now. She would have to move out. She could not afford the apartment on her own. She would have to tell people. Oh God. What would she say? Mutual friends would be divided. Her life had been split open and was oozing its sweetness like a ripe peach, never to be tasted again.

It all seemed so hard. Her impulse was to leave, to head home but then she would have to confront everything. She didn't think she was ready to do that, knew she wasn't ready. But this holiday was a farce, a delay of the inevitable. She could go to her parents? No. She would not be able to stand the pity, the questions, the sadness and sympathy.

Better to stay here in the sun and wallow for a while, collect herself before heading home. No, home was gone. Heading back. To abnormality which would become normal.

What was she going to do?

Rather than succumb to her despair, she decided to walk. Getting up from the harbour wall, Melissa walked to where it was less populated, into space: past the boats and the pleasure cruisers and the bike hire, past the souvenir sellers and the shop windows to the shingle and the ocean. She was on her own and she acknowledged that this was something that she would now have to get used to.

She stopped and breathed deeply, swallowing the panic at the reality she felt encroaching and leant her head back to look up to the sky, a gesture beseeching to whatever gods controlled her life to give her a sign that things could be, would be better!

And there above her was a bird, a pelican soaring and coasting, free and unfettered and glorious. It flew, riding the thermals, living its best life, in and above the blue. She imagined the wind, the scope of vision from up high, and the clarity. She saw how small it was but how that didn't matter. It was living well and finding its way.

And Melissa thought to herself that that was a good sign.

***

748 words

My first story written for this challenge sort of links to this and you can check that out here:

I've been writing some darker stories of late and so it was nice to write one that ended somewhat optimistically! Hope you like it.

Thanks for stopping by! If you do read it, please do leave a comment as I do love to interact with my readers.