I absolutely love making stories. Using different interesting ways to describe things so beautifully and in such delicate detail is what I love so much about writing. This is a story about two important moments. One good, and one very bad. It’s about the depressing irony of how things can change so easily, and how love handles it. I am very proud of this because I feel that I did a good job of adding details to make a reader feel invested and emotional. The most difficult part was describing the situation, having never been in it. I really had to use my imagination and put myself into the characters to be able to think about how they felt. It was hard for me get the story to a point of personal satisfaction in terms of being detailed enough to make it emotional and realistic.
Life is made of moments. Moments, I’ve discovered are made by coincidences. Sometimes, you’re just a part of a very special, sentimental part of life. No warning, no reason, just the moment. That was the situation that night in the car. Drifting over Brooklyn Bridge, the eternal amount of lights glowing through the 12 am night. But not even New York lights at midnight could beat my eyes as I lifted my body through the sunroof of the gleaming yellow mustang that night. My bare skin is immediately assaulted by a force of cool summer air, sending chills throughout me. My loose blue t-shirt waves in the wind around me. I bring my arms out beside me and let them hang back freely in the wind, feeling my skin tingle as my waist-length red hair flows like an untamed lion around them. Below me in the car’s driver’s seat, my boyfriend Noah turns up the radio volume, tearing his focus for only a moment from driving to smiling up at me. I smile the happiest, simplest smile at the joy of my favorite song, our favorite song, the song. I close my eyes and rest my mind, letting the joy, the lights, the air, the song, the moment, take over me. I take one last sentimental breath before clambering back to the car’s passenger seat. I plop down on the soothing leather. When the song ends, I reach over to turn off the radio. I gaze at Noah, at all the simple yet so important details of his being. Because moments are really just a bunch of details, details that for some unexplained reason make you feel something. Something real, something special, that doesn’t normally affect you much. Noah meets my eyes and we smile at each other, and it lets me know that he feels it too, the moment. For a while, we do nothing but gaze into each other’s eyes, experiencing the completeness of all that this is. For some reason, his eyes just seem so much more blue than normal. Like a invincible azure wave, and the force of it crashes into me. I can physically feel the impact of the life within those brilliant blue eyes. But then he looks away, back to the wheel, back to the road. And even though I don’t see his eyes anymore, the force of them is still there. I can feel it there, in my body. But then time passes, reality returns, the moment fades away, and suddenly it’s not his eyes that are making me feel this way anymore. The blue waves of his eyes is replaced by intimidating blurry shades of green and brown as the car falls, falls, falls forward. I’m petrified, I can’t breath, and I don’t understand, can’t figure out if this is real or not because god, this can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. I loose all self-control, zone into a state of nothingness. I feel like I’m dead. No, not dead, just not living. Like life continues but I’ve stopped, letting it go ahead. But then my head turns, without me making it and panic takes over me as I register Noah gazing into my eyes. I know he feels it too, the moment. Then there’s pain, so much pain. And it’s everywhere. The fall stops as we plunge straight into a wave. The impact sends me flying through the front window. I fight for surface at the sudden wave suppressing me. The wave passes and a wave of relief appears as I reach the surface. I spot the car, or the wreck that is left of it. An immediate pang of anxiety hits me. Where is Noah? I fight against the water clawing at my face, searching relentlessly for him. But he’s not there. This can’t be happening. I think that I’m imagining this, that I’m just so in love with those beautiful eyes that no matter what reality is, they are all I know of. But this is real. I start to feel the chill, the wet of water, and am once again being bombarded by waves of such glorious blue, never ending blue. But these aren’t waves that I feel from looking in his eyes. These are real, merciless, freezing waves. And suddenly there’s red. Like a scarlet sun-glazed kite amidst a summer sky. Or like blood in water. My blood, in this water. My mind is a hazy mess, but I force myself to think back to normality, of cleaning off a red covered paintbrush by letting the water take control, washing it away. Becoming not water and red paint, but red water. Just as my blood is paint, I can feel the water doing just that, washing it, washing me away. I don’t want to be washed away. I don’t want to be frozen in a moment, forced to face whatever comes after the water takes control. I don’t want to die. I fight desperately at my surroundings, at the dark midnight waves. The current hurls me against hard sharp rocks, slicing my skin and flesh. I grimace against the burning pain, but will myself to ignore it best I can. My clothes cling to my skin, weighing me down, dragging me deeper. I’m under water again, heavy hearted and light headed, fighting for life. The wave passes and another appears, holding me captive and helpless. This happens again and again, going under and then coming up. I learn to time my air properly and avoid the rocks, leaving the real fight for myself. I’m having a hard time fighting, not giving in to the pain and the weakness and the fear and the sadness. Somewhere, somehow, I glimpse of the sky. At the abyss of darkness. But there’s light too. The stars and the moon, mascots of hope, forcing me to keep fighting. And I do. I force my aching body to just survive the next wave, make it past the next rock. And I do this over and over, until I simply cannot produce the ability. The severity of the pain, the overwhelming weakness, the aching fear, the bitter sadness; it gives me no choice but to give in. I drift between hellish water and heavenly air, and again settle my view on the sky. But the light has no hope now, now I curse it; the spotlight over me. Because now, when I watch the moon and the stars they seem to be encouraging the water on, mocking me from the sky. They know I can’t do it, and I do too. And then out of nowhere I am once again face to face with Noah, he’s emerged from this hell when I was sure he was gone. I should be overjoyed, relieved, but when I look into his eyes I know that I can’t be. I can now make out the damage within his eyes, all of what we’ve been through affecting them. That breath-taking azure, is now the most faded plain blue, the waves now weak and helpless. He has given up. And when he looks in my eyes I know that he’s thinking the same of me. That’s when I know it’s over, for both of us. And just as though this water was him, I let myself fade, sink, drown within it, within the water, within him, within the moment.