I was drowning. Bluish-green water sliced between my white-tipped fingers, but I wasn't swimming. Like a bobber, I surfaced and dipped, surfaced and dipped.
Red stripe center going under, never to feel dry socks again.
Between the shouts to stop fighting, I heard whispers of encouragement; it was maddening.
I just wanted to close my eyes and let the cool water cradle me, and yet, I fought.
Lungs burning, breathing smooth sailing.
Tender fingers of fright caressed me.
It was a dream, drowning.
Dang Betsy, I saw that in first person so hard I felt it. - damn good writing.
ReplyDeleteAwwwww! Thank you, Swordfish. 😁 To taste the salty sting of drowning and yet awake—dry but scathed...this. Is. Surviving.
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