Waves of Change | Short Story

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Waves of Change by Messy

“What keeps you awake at night?” asked Avery. 

The embers were still smoldering with hues of red, purple, and orange. They kind of reflected the sun set over the ocean we were watching, except for the embers gave off heat. 

“Dreams,” I replied in a distant tone, thinking of all the nights I stayed up because I was afraid I would run away in my dreams and never come back.

“What is it, Teagan, about your dreams?”  

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes, please, tell me, I want to understand why your eyes always look so tired and you always seem lost.”

I looked into the sunset. It was like a beautiful painting across the sky. I guess the Creator wanted us to have a stunning scenery. 

“Ok,” I whispered. “But please don’t tell anyone, ok?”

“I cross my heart,” he said in a serious tone. I knew he meant it. Looking down at my hands that I tucked in the sleeves of my sweater to keep warm, I started to explain.

“In my dreams, I’m a mermaid.  I can feel the stars shining down on my periwinkle scales of my long tail. I can take my hair down from its normal messy bun and let it loose in the cold ocean blue water. I swim faster than I do with just two legs, through the tides. With the moon light illuminating the water, I feel free. Sometimes I dream of running away, only in my case it would be swimming away. What I’m afraid of is never waking up - actually swimming away into the dark waters of the night and never coming back. Yes, I would be free, but I’d be lonely and cold, by myself in the night with nothing to keep me warm. That’s why I’m afraid to go to sleep, because I don’t want to be alone.”

There was silence between us. I wondered if I should have never told him why I stayed up at night. I could have made something different up, that way he would’t worry as much. Looking up from my sweater tucked hands I saw that the sun was slowly but surely, moving below the horizon. Avery picked up the stoker, a few small pieces of kindling, and wood and started to stoke the fire. He obviously was planing on this being a long conversation. 

“I always knew there was something different about you Teagen,” Avery said, breaking the silence. “The first time I saw you, I looked into your eyes... It was like looking into your raging soul. All the passion and emotion caught up in them. It was havoc, but also beauty at the same time.”  

I could feel my face getting warm and I knew I wasn’t because I was getting too close to the flames. 

“I... I don’t really know what to say.” I said softly, still blushing at the compliment. Avery was still staring down at the fire. I could see the flames flickering in his eyes. By now the sun was set and the bright colors of the sky where dimming. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to be free from all that consuming you. The expectations you have to live up to, the pressure, the hurt. I just don't want you to have to deal with it any more!” He was now out of his seat and he was kneeling down in the sand. I knelt down beside him. 

“It’ll all be ok, Avery. Things will work out in the end. I know it will. I just have to be patient,” I whispered, rubbing his back. I said these things but I was having trouble believing it myself. Remembering the nights filled with a tear-stained face and waves crashing inside my ocean soul. 

“What if we both ran away? If you’re a mermaid in your dreams, don’t you think you could be one now? Right here? We could swim away together and see where the ocean takes us. You could be free, and you wouldn’t be alone.” He said, looking up from the fire.

I thought about this for a moment. Thinking of the real dangers of being out in the ocean at night. Even being on the beach this late was making me anxious. 

“I don’t know Avery, theres so many things that would go wrong - so many dangers.”

“Oh come on, where is your sense of adventure? If it is so real in your dreams, why can’t this be just as real?” 

“Ok...” I said a little uneasily.

As I said this, he got up off his sandy knees, grabbed my hand, and started to walk toward the water. I felt the tide rush up over my feet and whisk all the sand that was stuck to them off. The water felt cool and crisp, just like it did on the nights I dreamt of. I reached up and let loose my hair from its bun. It fell all the way down to my hips. 

I slowly sank into the water, first my knees, then hips, arms, and shoulders. My clothes were getting heavy because of all the water but I kept on going deeper and deeper, until I had to tread because I couldn’t touch. All the while, Avery was beside me. The moon light reflected on the water like crystals. I could feel my soul connect with the ocean, all the emotion and passion started to stir inside of me. We were so far out now that the water started to get rough and waves were getting bigger. I could see a tiny glimpse of the fire that we had on shore. My long hair was soaked but I didn’t mind - this felt so good, so right. For the longest time, we just stayed there with no words between us, just the moonlit ocean. 

All of a sudden, a wave, bigger than them all, came over our heads, separating Avery from me and dunking us both underwater. I tried to swim back up to the surface, but just as I did, another wave came and pushed me under again, suffocating me. I started to feel a change in my body. It was a weird tingly sensation and I couldn’t move my feet anymore. I made it to the surface one more time, using my arms to lift me up. I couldn’t see the light from the fire on shore anymore. 

“Avery!” I screamed as I choked on some water that pushed me under again. I felt as though I was sinking into the deep, consumed by the darkness around me. I could hardly do or see anything. It was all black. It was like I was drowning, only oddly enough, I could breath this time. Just then, I felt a hand grab my arm and pull me upwards to the surface.

“Teagan, I’m right here! Are you ok?” 

I couldn't feel my feet any more. My legs felt like rubber. The waves where still crashing around us but it was easier to stay afloat with Avery by my side again. This time we held on to each other tighter.

“What happened to my legs? I can’t feel them anymore!” 

He looked into my eyes with a feeling of excitement and wonder. 

“Teagan... I saw, you have a tail.”

Shocked, I looked down into water. A periwinkle shimmering tail is what took the place of my legs. Just like in my dream. I had no words in my mouth to say. 

“I have one, too.” Avery said in a low voice. His was indigo blue.

“I don’t know how, but we did it. We’re mermaids!”  My mind was swirling. I flipped my fin. I was so much easier to stay afloat now. 

“We can go. We can be free. You can be who you want to be... WE can be who we were meant to be.” Avery whispered softly. Even though the waves around us were crashing, I could still hear him. I could, I could be free and alive. We could run away from our worries and troubles. These thoughts were racing through my mind. 

The water was up to my chin now... I closed my eyes, just to feel everything around me. From the ocean, to my tail... it was all so new. I felt like a part of the sea now. There was no turing back. Churning and roaring and swirling, all the passion coming out of me, I looked around me, deciding where we should go. My gaze stopped out towards the west, where the sun just sank. I knew I wasn’t dreaming this. 

“Yes, let’s go,” I said in a whisper, Avery took my hand and filled in the gaps. Under the water we went, off to explore the depth of our new destinies - together, not alone. 

“Sometimes in the wave of change we find our true direction.”
~Unknown~ 

Good-bye Luck, Hello Hope

Photo Made By Messy

I wrote this short story a few month back and I thought it would be fun to share it with you all. It is one of my favorite short stories I've written so I hope you all like it! 

Good-bye Luck, Hello Hope 

I don’t believe in luck. 

I think it is crazy how sometimes, people find their true love at age 18 and stay happily married for 80 years, while other equally awesome people have such a hard time finding their true love. I also think it is crazy how some people are born knowing the career they will pursue and they focus their whole life on it and they are successful and accomplish great things, while other people are finishing up their senior year in high school and still don’t know what they are going to do with their life. 

Timing baffles me, but I don’t believe in luck. 

Yet, I have this necklace. Well, I actually had this necklace. I got it from a clothing store in the mall a few years back. It wasn’t an heirloom or an investment piece. It was just a simple, very trendy necklace. The long, bronze chain held two small pendants at the end. One was of a time piece and the other was a heart shaped locket. Knowing me, a hopeful romantic, I attached to the neckless immediately. 

The heart shaped locket = Do what you love, follow your heart

The time piece = Time is short, don’t waist it.

Shortly after I bought this necklace I went to a church service. I was going through some hard times. My long-term boyfriend, the man I thought I was going to marry, broke up with me. I was struggling to keep up with the rent on my apartment. I could never seem to get applause from anyone I was trying to please, and I still didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. When I walked through the door of church that morning, I felt like God was looking down at me with a disapproving look. He didn’t feel close at all. He felt far away and distant, like a stern man up in the sky.  That all changed during the service. 

I was sitting in one of the back rows. The pastor’s sermon was a blur. My Bible was laying open on my lap while I was thinking about all I was going through. All of a sudden, a little girl, around the age of 2, toddled down the aisle. She clung to the peach skirt I was wearing and my Bible slid off my lap and came tumbling down to the floor. As all this was happening, the mother of the toddler hurried down a pick up her daughter. “I’m so sorry, she slipped away from me and I didn’t know,” the mother whispered to me. “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” I said, giving the mother a reassuring look. 

I couldn’t be more thankful for that little girl who grabbed on to my skirt. When I picked up my Bible from the ground, the pages flipped to Jeremiah 29:11. The verse met my eyes as I read “‘I say this because I know what I am planing for you’ says the Lord. ‘I have good plans for you, not plans to hurt you. I will give you hope and a good future.’”

My heart sang as I read the verse.

Once the service was over, I went out to my old green VW and wrote down the verse on a small piece of paper. I folded it into a teeny-tiny accordion and stuffed it into the locket on my necklace. The verse has been in the locket ever since. There have been many times when my heart has been broken or my faith has been shaken. In those times I taken out the tiny accordion folded paper and read the verse over and over. I sometimes subconsciously press the locket between my thumb and finger when I pray. I don’t need to read the verse in those time, I just need to keep it near as I’m reminded what is hidden in the locket.

I don’t believe in luck, I believe in hope that is unseen. 

A few day ago, I wore the necklace as always. I also wore a navy blue lace dress, cowgirl boots, and an off-white cardigan (because it is cool weather here). The necklace was like an exclamation mark to my funky little outfit. 

I ended up going out shopping at the mall. I tried on a few dresses at JC Penny, browsed through the books at Barnes & Noble, got some coffee, and drove home. 

When I finally got home, I realized the necklace was no longer around my neck. 

I zoomed back to the mall as fast as I could. I scoured the dressing rooms, checked in the lost and found, and meandered through the parking lot looking for the familiar shine of the locket. Nada. After a final call to the store today, I accepted the truth:

The era of the necklace has come to an end.

Which was okay. It was cheap. It wasn't an heirloom. It was just a necklace. I wasn’t sad. I just kicked myself for not realizing when it fell off. 

I was thinking about my necklace today. Not everything that I hoped for happened...but so many wonderful things did happen, and great things will happen. The necklace wasn’t some talisman that ushered good fortunes into my life.  It was just a reminder. The necklace was just a brave declaration in a desolate season: God was planning great things for me. 

This is what I hope happened to the necklace:

I hope that when I was tugging off the super cute spring dress over my head, I hope the necklace went with it. Maybe it would land in the corner of the dressing room. The rhythm of my boots would match the tick-tick-tick of time piece as I walked away. 

I hope that another dreamer came in after me. Maybe she’s trying to find a casual dress for a dinner, a school function, or a party. She checks her refection in the mirror; the dress looks fine, but she is surprise my the look on her face. They’re bags under her eyes and worry waded down her smile. She wonders: 

Why do I even keep trying? 

Why are my plans not going the way they should? 

Why does life have to be so hard? 

She slips the dress off quickly only to see a necklace laying the corner of the dressing room. It looks kinda cheep but still trendy. She picks in up. She opens the locket. She unfolds the tiny accordion of words. It is the smallest victory banner she’s ever held. 

Don’t give up. God has got a great plan. One that is pleasing and perfect. One not to hurt you. 

It is meant to be hers. She doesn’t believe in luck. She just needs the permission to have a little bit of hope. God has passed down the necklace to her. 

I hope she wears it. I hope she wears it when she is running though a field of blooming flowers. When she writes. When she goes to a concert with her friends. When she drinks coffee in the mornings. When she leans in to kiss her true love. I hope she too, clutches it between her thumb and finger when she prays. I hope it reminds her that there really is good days to come.

It is wonderful to feel blazingly alive sometimes. 

I hope she wears the necklace out. I hope she wears it well.  I hope she puts it in a sparkly slingshot, and aims it for the stars. 

Inkings and Scars

      

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Inkings and Scars 
by Messy 

I stare at the ink perfectly placed on the barista’s arm as he pours cream into someone’s latte.  The design intrigues me and makes me smile; its inked fluffed feather, black-pointed wingtips, and beady eyes make it look like the bird could soar right off the barista’s arm and into the air. No matter what the meaning holds, it always makes me wonder as I drink my coffee. 

“Peppermint mocha?”

I look up from from the inked bird, managing not to flinch too much.  The barista is leaning on the counter with his elbows, watching me. 

“Yes, please. As always,” I say with a smile, trailing my finger along one of the scars on my arms. 

As he pulled another cup from the self and started to brew my coffee, I take a glimpse at the rest of my scars, wondering if I would be brave enough to get my own tattoo. I already have too much permanent damage. Damage that came along with memories of the surgery room. 

He sets my order in front of me and I thank him. He smiles and nods. I don’t ask about his tattoo. He doesn’t ask about my scars. 

I walk away from the counter and sit at a table in the corner of the little coffee shop. I slip my worn purse off my shoulder, where is rests in my lap. As I take my first sip of yumminess, I see the barista come from behind the counter and head towards my way. He stops at my table, leaning on the back of the open chair.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“No, not at all,” I say back to him, as he pulls out the chair and sits down in front of me.  

“Thanks. I was hoping I’d get to talk to you.”

“No problem. Why do you want to talk with me?”

“Well, I see you every day but I have never had the chance to ask you for your name.”

I smile at this. 

“People call me June. That’s my nickname. What’s yours?”

“June, I like that name. I’m Kevin.”

“Thanks. I like the name Kevin too.” 

He laughs.  “Thanks, but it’s not as unique as June. So, I take it you like Taylor Swift?” He motioned towards my concert T-shirt I was wearing. 

I smile shyly.  “Yeah, I kinda do. I got it when I went to her concert in high school. I still like to wear it on occasion.”  

“I think that’s cool. I don’t mind her myself.” 

We talk and laugh for what feels like the longest time, even though it was only fifteen minutes. Then, of course, comes the time when he has to get back to work.

“I hope we get to talk again sometime soon. I enjoyed this time with you.” He says, showing his smile. 

“I hope so, too,” I reply, really hoping that “sometime soon” could maybe be tomorrow. 

We both get up from our chairs. I sneak a quick look at Kevin’s inked bird again. I should have asked him the meaning behind it. Maybe next time I talk to him I could.

Finishing up a few more errands I have to do, I drive home. The sky is turning from day to dusk. Hues of purple, pink, and blue reflect in my rearview mirror as I drive towards the East, thinking about the conversation I had with Kevin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Throughout the next few months, Kevin and I talk almost every day. There are a couple times when he isn't at work and I have to sit by myself. I am always tempted to ask him about his tattoo, or at least say something about it, but I don’t have the guts to do so. 

Walking into the coffee shop one day, Kevin’s inked sparrow stands out to me as always. I can see that he has already started to make my mocha, even before I walk up to the counter. 

“It’s nice to see your shining smile today” he says, as he hands me my warm cup of peppermint joy. 

“Thank you,” I smile even more at the complement.

I take a seat at the same table we always sit at and Kevin soon joins me. 

We chitchat about different things as I drink my coffee, like the weather and and music. Today I'm determined to ask him about the bird. 

“So,” I say, as I rest my hands on top of the table, leaning slightly forward. “the bird tattoo on your arm. I’ve always been intrigued by it. If you don’t mind me asking, what is it’s meaning?” 

“What? You mean this?” he says, brushing his hand over the ebony wings, “I’ve had it for about a year or so. I love birds. The way they soar in the sky and rise above the rest of the world. It fascinates me.”  He pauses for a moment. It looks like he is debating whether or not to say something. After a few moments, word come again.

  “When I lived at home, situations were bad. My parents were drug addicts. They told me I would never be able to amount to anything. I was only 17 when they kicked me out and told me never to come back. I’ve been on my own ever since then. Friends and neighbors helped me get back up on my feet but I never really thought I could ever be who I wanted to be,” He looks away, almost in embarrassment. I never thought this would be his story. “I hope someday I’ll soar and thrive, too, just like the birds. So I got a sparrow inked to my skin just to remember my dream.”

My lips open, but no words come. My heart feels broken as he finished the story. 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. Words can’t really do it justice.” I say in almost a whisper, with a sympathetic look on my face.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m back on my feet again and I have great friends helping me out. So, what about you? You kind of have tattoos of your own?”  I look down at the scars on my arms, feeling kind of embarrassed about them. I debate with myself if I should tell him the true story or not. He told me his, but should I tell him mine?

“Yeah, I kind of do,” The words slip from my mouth, “when I was young I had to have many surgeries. They left me lying in bed with nothing really to do while all my other friends played outside and rode bikes. I felt so left out. I shouldn’t complain too much. I got to stick my noise in some good books, but still. All the pain from the surgeries left me with a sickening feeling inside. I tried my best to heal and get better but it didn’t happen the way I wanted it to. Since then, the people I’ve been around and the situations I’ve been in have hurt me more than not. For the longest time, I wore only long sleeve shirts for the longest time because I was so self conscious about my scars. I’ve been able to shake off some of my insecurities now that I’ve gotten older. The scars still remind me of all the pain, though. I don’t think I’ve healed all the way. I wish I could fly.”

Tears start to form in my eyes. I try to hold them back, but one escapes and slips down onto my cheek. I quickly whip it way, I don’t want Kevin, or anyone else in the coffee shop to see me cry. I almost regret telling him. 

Kevin looks just as I felt when he told me his story. We just told each other about our marks on our skins and how they had an impact on our lives. 

“Can I just tell you,” he says, leaning in to where only I could hear, “every scar tells a story. A story that says, ‘I survived’. You may have a couple scars and a few bad memories, but then again, all heroes do.  Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls. God promised to work everything that has happened to you, and everything that will happen to you, for your good and His glory. June, your scars are beautiful. You can thrive in healing hands. You can fly too.” 

My mind revolves around the words that were just spoken. I have never viewed my scars and pains like that before. I have always seen them as markings and pale seams that bear the sign of imperfection, not beauty and God’s glory.  I don’t say much because it is time for Kevin to get back to work. My head is still swimming with his words, though. 

The sun is painting a picture of blues and yellows across the sky again as I drive home. I now see how I can view my scars differently. I can give God my pains. My scars tell a story of emerging from suffering. A story that says at the end, “I survived”, and it is all for God’s glory.  Perhaps like Kevin’s sparrow, I can fly too.