When it started raining

1. Being dumped by a wave

A tremulous torrent of water, sucking at the tide and gaining strength as it rolls towards the shore. Dark heads bobbing at the breaking point.

The ocean swelled, an angry wall of water forming, the wave curving into a tip, breaking along the shore in a continuous cascade of water, a thunderous crack pummelling beneath the surface, churning water beneath its depths.

The swimmers decide – those armed with boards leap into the wave’s path, riding along its frothing edge until there is no more water. Then there are those without, some of who face the wave head on, attempting to stand against its wrath. The others (the smart ones?) dive beneath it, closing their eyes against the salt water fury and hoping to emerge on the other side, of calm.

The unlucky one is swept off their feet in the ocean’s rampage. Far from giddy and light-headed (the usual associated feelings with being swept off your feet) they are tossed beneath the blue concrete, paralysed momentarily as their limbs fight against the water surging against them from every direction.

An attempted fight is futile; an effort to gasp for air is wasted, because the wave has surged into every crevice of the world that they occupy. They will be tossed throughout the passage of water, whipped and wrung relentlessly with more momentum than the spin cycle on a washing machine, until – respite.

They will reappear in the shallows, coughing, gasping, spluttering, salt water bile streaming from eyes, mouth, nose, burning. Oxygen has a newfound glory; they cannot breathe in fast enough, inflating lungs scratchy with sand and salt. The wave’s victim is bent over, winded, as the smaller waves, offsets of the beast that created such turmoil, lap around their ankles. Already the sea is swirling again, waiting, biding time.



2. The silver ring with the green stone

Miles and miles of fields, blurring into a continuous strip of green. Miles and miles of road, stretched out before them, the bitumen smooth and dark, edges neat and finished. White windmills whirred gently in the breeze, giant arms reaching towards the April sky. It wasn’t cold, so two coats were unnecessary. The box was small, and unexpected. The green stone was set in silver, fit on the third finger on one’s right hand. She would stretch out her fingers like a starfish to admire it, the only piece of jewellery on otherwise bare hands. She did remember everything about that car ride.

3. Donuts with pink icing and sprinkles

Fake strawberry flavour is generally more appetising than fake cherry flavour. The icing that is slathered on bakery donuts is the epitome of baby pink. Donuts with pink icing and sprinkles will be chosen above donuts with chocolate icing and sprinkles.