Rainy Season

by Nada Andersen
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Grass is cold under my feet. Freshly cut, some blades stick to my bare feet as I walk down to the beach. It’s getting dark. Real quick. From the very last rays of sunshine, struggling to break through the clouds, till now, is just a few minutes. Shadows start to dance.

Sand is cold too. I can see the marks heavy raindrops left. Like small craters crammed together. Only a few critters crawled out of the sand to look for a late night meal. Everyone else is buried deep down.

It’s gray and grim. Will another storm come by tonight? Will it be heavy and violent, as the last one? Or do we get a lighter, easier to bear rain, tiny raindrops combined with just a dash of wind. Beats me. Somehow, I feel, it deliberately beats me.

Dark, darker than dark, the night creeps in. This lake is climbing towards me to engulf me in its coldness and darkness. It should be scary but in essence, it isn’t. My feet are covered in cold water that climbs up  my legs just a little bit too fast. I’m frozen in a test-tube of the twilight and I can’t move, this water is going to drown me, I know this as I stand in place, immobile.

Last breath. I’m inhaling water and exhaling fish. There is a silver line of light that still breaks through the sky and lights up the path under the surface. I can swim now. Fish eyes look at me with curiosity and absence of fear. I think they think I’m one of them. My chest doesn’t hurt any more. My feet are suddenly warm and moving. Death, in essence, seems to be just fine.

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