A/N: Hey there. This was a piece that I submitted for a creative writing assessment last year for school. Basically, the task was to write about something that triggers a memory and to work our way from there. It had to be around 600-700 words so I apologize if it's short or if some bits seem under- developed. Felt like posting this as I haven't shown this publicly yet. Feel free to critique this harshly as any feedback is greatly appreciated.
Raining Mirrors
They were tiny mirrors that fell, cracking and splashing the world beneath. In winter here, when it rains it lasts for days -- though usually it isn't as heavy as this. As I wait, I can hear them patter the roof of our home and smash to their jagged deaths. Slowly, I draw the hood of my robe up and lower my head. Just looking at the downpour reminds me of the time when my life too had fallen and cracked.
Glassy water trailed down my body in cold rivulets that night as I gazed back at the restaurant. Lanterns hung on the lines, connected from the tree trunks to the eves of its roof. They were suspended over the sidewalk where the diners ate. A cloud of steam rose from one of the opened windows, woven with the smell of grilled beef and spices before whiffing away into the freezing air. Families and teenagers had gathered by the rotating glass doors, rugged up and shivering.
On my sixteenth birthday, this was where Bell and I had dined. Her hand held mine as we walked along the crimson carpeted floor, greeted by the sound of banging pots, and sat in the table by the corner. As I was talking to her, I often caught glimpses of the chandelier hanging among the wooden beams. From the main body, its crystal arms branched off in intricate patterns and supported the illumination.
I ran a finger along the smooth edge of my locket, lost in memory. I opened it and stared at the portrait of her.
The heavy mascara around her eyes contrasted with her pale white skin, and her dark hair was wisping to the breeze. Her hands visibly strummed the electric guitar, halted but captured forever, her bright smile a rare occurrence.
It was all too much; I turned and sprinted away from the incessant memories. The wet sand crept through my sandals and covered my feet as I made my way though the dunes. Past the rusting wreckage of a shipyard, a dock stood on slanted legs, facing out into the dark sea. A sharp creak was relinquished as I stepped on its uneven surface and seated myself over the rippling waters.
I undid the locket and tossed it into the sea, tired of carrying its burden. With fascination, I watched; rings of waves spread outward and distorted my wavering reflection.
I clasped my hands together, forming an imaginary rod, but I knew that it was fate that determined what happened in this town. On some nights, I wondered if I would be awake in the morning, or whether the waves would be big or small when they surged for the beach. I wished that I could reach into the darkness and fish out the shattered reflections that swam before me.
“Waverly.”
I felt her the moment she arrived, a sudden wind that danced in circles and touched me with its icy tendrils.
"Look, Waverly, I --"
"I know, Bell," I interrupted, letting my hands drop into my lap. I did not look at her.
"No, you don't. I don't know what I was thinking back then. When they ... and your parents ... God, Waverly, I froze." She crossed the distance to me and knelt, trying to catch a glimpse of my face. "I'm sorry," she said at length. "I should've helped and instead I -- I didn't. I just didn't."
“Bell...it's alright."
“Waverly, your parents are my friends,” said Bell as she sat down. “Even I had no real understanding of what I did.”
My eyes began to water and a tear rolled down the side of my cheek. I could hold it no more. I said nothing back to her. I did not listen to the cries I made, but to the reflecting waves gently riveting the sands.
They were tiny mirrors that fell, cracked, and splashed the world that was beneath the clouds. I look at the one in my bedroom, fearing that it too would crack one day.
Here in winter rain fell often, though not as heavily as this.
But really, this makes almost no sense at all in my head. Try like this: “During the winter, it rains for days at a time – though rarely is it as heavy as it is tonight.” Or something like that. To add to that, this particular sentence bothers me in the way it distracts from the poetic tone of the first sentence. I’m just not too keen on it.