Writing challenge continues
By Gedren_y:
Title: Goddess of Windswept Sandals
Word to Use: shave
Goddess of Windswept Sandals
In the little town by the beach, the one that had been abandoned a long time ago after the oil spill ruined their only resource for money, tourism from other richer parts, she lifted her steps little by little, lightly skipping along the sands that had once been white, shaving through the curves and ridges along the beach, now stained forever black by a sea that has completely ignored it, the waves no longer visiting out of either disgust or contempt.
When the winds blow through the waves, the remain stink of the dried oil still weaves itself through the empty roads of the once beautiful town, the well-paved roads now cracked with green leaved plants sneaking through them, the finished paint now peeling to reveal the rot and damage on the wood underneath them.
Yet, through all this depression, she skipped along, her shiny toenails glimmering under the warm, summer sun, her sandals making a light tapping sound as she danced her way through the streets, through the empty houses, through the ghosts that once resided here.
And when it all ends, when the sun set again, she will once again return to her home, that little hut that used to hold her dad and mom, her brothers and sisters, her hopes and dreams.
In the emptiness of the house, she will reside besides her bed and sleep, listen to the waves and let the winds blow through.
Until the sun comes again, until the sun returns.
She will dance through the streets again.
Title: Goddess of Windswept Sandals
Word to Use: shave
Goddess of Windswept Sandals
In the little town by the beach, the one that had been abandoned a long time ago after the oil spill ruined their only resource for money, tourism from other richer parts, she lifted her steps little by little, lightly skipping along the sands that had once been white, shaving through the curves and ridges along the beach, now stained forever black by a sea that has completely ignored it, the waves no longer visiting out of either disgust or contempt.
When the winds blow through the waves, the remain stink of the dried oil still weaves itself through the empty roads of the once beautiful town, the well-paved roads now cracked with green leaved plants sneaking through them, the finished paint now peeling to reveal the rot and damage on the wood underneath them.
Yet, through all this depression, she skipped along, her shiny toenails glimmering under the warm, summer sun, her sandals making a light tapping sound as she danced her way through the streets, through the empty houses, through the ghosts that once resided here.
And when it all ends, when the sun set again, she will once again return to her home, that little hut that used to hold her dad and mom, her brothers and sisters, her hopes and dreams.
In the emptiness of the house, she will reside besides her bed and sleep, listen to the waves and let the winds blow through.
Until the sun comes again, until the sun returns.
She will dance through the streets again.