Short Stories

Writing: A Short Story: Cycle

Hi everyone!

I’m still playing around with writing a piece from one sitting. Here is what came to me after my morning swim. There is nothing like being in the water and feeling like you weight nothing, yet, to know that you exist as there are pressure and friction when you take the first stroke after a spin.


I float naked in the perfect weightlessness, but I’m not a bird, the king of the air. Neither am I a fish even when the turquoise water washes over me. I am what I am. For a long time, I had no name. I was only thought w

ithout form. Now I have this body, and I am meant to use it. For what? They left that out when they imagined me.

I have been lying here, letting the waves guide me to my destiny, waiting for a function or a new thought. It seems like they have forgotten me with a blink of an eye. I don’t see white flowers floating at me any longer, and I don’t hear their prayers for me to be tempered for their men to return home. I listen to their roaring sounds piercing my mind and their shouts as they fear the unknown, but behind all, there is laughter. A child giggling as her toes get wet. I remember that sound.

Something gets caught in my hair, or I think it is hair. That is what the humans who made me called it. I push my fingers and find a lucid vessel. I have seen nothing like it before. My memories are full of sunrises and sunsets, silver moons and passing stars, but not anything like this. It has a small mouth, yet; I think it is not a creature. I send a wave out to find out what I have caught, and there is an echo back. They call it a plastic bottle. I wonder what it is and let it go.

I shut my eye and hear the roars again. I used to hear the land moan, but the cacophony drowns it along with this beat that pounds against my chest. I have started to wish everything to go away. There is this anger inside me, the anger they prayed me not to have, and I never had before. I know if I swayed my body back and forth, I could swallow the lands they walk on. But.

But I can’t. I’m waiting for my maker to remember me. To whisper my name and give me a purpose, lying here in the turquoise sea.

Thank you for reading, have a lovely day ❤

© K.A. Ashcomb

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