Blends of orange and yellow pastels no longer lazed over a dominant sect of the tiring soft sky. These very strokes, with their kind glow and promise of yet something greater, had even charmed Piers at an age before she could understand their true calling.
How times have changed. A fleeting warmth that danced atop the weak churning of the lake water, as it ever on tried to mimic this very display with distorted reflections. Were there words capable of describing such a picturesque scene? Certainly. Piers had drawn such a conclusion long ago: harbinger. A harbinger of an even grander display; a fleeting moment comparable to Heaven itself. True beauty to be seen for but a moment, yet no lens of eternity could even hope to capture more than just the surface of its allurement.
Now at visibly high speeds, the setting red sun approached this time of enrapturing climax: moments before civil twilight. With a typical slight anxiety, the young woman began yet another one of her passionate dotings.
The sky’s warmth now subsided to a grander contrast of colour: a fierce crimson border to the, now blackened with shadows, horizon line burned with deep amber and mango above. Serving as an almost non-existent buffer, traces of a still radiant seafoam green submitted to a deep mitten purple, while above that, cold black loomed endlessly westward.
To her, this time of powerful contrast, both a graceful shining and fading perishment of a minute’s time, held an inexhaustible charm not through her eyes, but through the depths of her longing heart. This was a special moment to share with a special someone, where she should be met with his warm, protecting embrace in the surrounding cool night’s air.
Reality will always continue.
To anyone watching, all that remained was a lone, shadowy silhouette perched on the dock’s small bench.
Although grated, its hardwood surface perturbed her bottom as she held the hem of her dress, protesting the cool surface breeze that attacked her clothes and bare skin alike.
She frowned. At the end of the dock ran a particularly eerie stretch of water. Contrary to what she knew, it looked far from the shallow beach water she stood on just earlier in the day. Just where sandy bottom that used to show through clear water sat, an abyss now stretched out and under the dock, trapping more than just light with a looming presence.
Should she set her foot in the cold blackness, she felt it not unreasonable for a certain gloomy outcome–sinking into its endless domain, with nobody as a witness, nor saviour.
No, such a thought is too morbid. Neither gloomy, nor wishful thinking bring fruitful results–only the breathless pursuit of one’s deepest desire, and perhaps the world’s blessing wouldn’t hurt at all.
Piers is no extension of reality. Something so picturesque–so charming–is found by simply looking at the sky, and yet we choose to pass up the beauty of everyday life.