Young Writers Society

black and red, sang the

colors of our heads.

mine was red, like the sunsets

of miami.

yours was black, like your

namesake, “raven”.

--

my hair was as scarce as the

pink emeralds one would find in

a queen’s jewelry box.

but it never shined in the sun;

it kept a dull pencil sheen.

and yet, it still was illuminated

by the sunrise before us.

--

your hair was as common

as coal; as normal as

us.

but oh, how it glittered so,

whilst exposed to the sun

by day and the moon

at night.

--

streams of giggles tumbled

out of your mouth

like a stream feeding into

the lake that we beheld.

shades of blues and bright whites

decorated its surface as a natural

painting made by

the most famous artist herself,

mother nature.

--

you stuck your toes in the water

whilst i stuck my feet in as well—

since you were short

where i was tall—

my ankles submerged completely.

ripples emanated from our

connections with the liquid,

disrupting the surface of the perfect

scene before us.

--

i glanced at our beach house,

bamboo and ropes

and thatch roofing and bricks,

that looked sturdy but in reality

could collapse at any moment;

the beach house that we hid in when

we didn’t want to deal with humanity

anymore.

--

but, for now, we sat out in the open,

watching the sleek swans gliding across

the water and the geese flying in

perfect formation and touching the sky.

whilst we were afraid to submerge ourselves

in the waters of the lake Society.

--

the beach to our right caught my eye

with its yellow and tan and peach-colored

sand surrounding us, rising up and down

up

and

down,

in dunes that slowly were deteriorating

by the small breeze blowing

sand granules off of the sandbank.

--

behind the dunes were a row

of palm trees, with coconuts hidden

in the leaves that were softly swaying

in the breeze. the thin trunks were

thick and close together, trapping us

in this paradise that we never wanted to leave.

--

on the other side of our lake were

tall reeds that were easy to play in;

the soft upper stems had budding leaves

to pick off in an imitation of “loves me not”;

the stalks were sturdy enough to somehow

support our weight for us to

hang onto as we dipped

our ankles into the waters of Society.

--

the dock that i placed my hands on—

receiving painful splinters along the way—

was worn down by the amount

of sneakers and feet that pounded upon

the surface of the spruce planks.

--

the goldfish in the translucent lake

swam up to my toes and nibbled at them,

the way you did when trying something

for the first time.

i wriggled my toes and they dashed away,

not wanting anything to do with a victim

who struggled in the slightest.

--

i glanced at you and you looked at me,

smiling,

showing off your bleached teeth with a

genuine smile across your pale face. i

wanted to touch the freckles spattering your face

but restrained myself for you didn’t like

being touched by my filthy hands.

--

i would have smiled back, maybe,

if i wasn’t so entranced by the paradise

that held us captive so.

your brow furrowed and your lips turned

downwards into your characteristic

frown that you sported whenever you were

annoyed. this, i noticed.

--

what’s wrong? i asked you.

nothing, was your answer, even if

it was obviously not nothing.

tell me the truth, i demanded.

when i look back, i most definitely

mothered you, even if that was a gesture

you didn’t need in the first place.

--

you haven’t paid attention to me.

your sad tone bit into my heart like

i did into the perfect apples that we ate

every day.

you’re distracted by everything else, like

it’s more interesting than me.

--

you know, i don’t think that, i said,

(i lied.)

you’re much more interesting. i’ve just

been paying attention to my surroundings more.

haven’t you ever wondered why

we’re trapped here?

--

i expected you to say something, such as:

because we’re perfect and deserve

a perfect paradise.

but you said nothing, just staring ahead

at the stalks of grass ahead of us that swayed

softly in the breeze, occasionally dropping leaves

that dropped in the water below and

disrupted their reflections.

--

how about we play a game? you asked me.

i want to play tag. after a beaming smile

from you, i gave in. fine, i said, giving you

a smile of my own. let’s play tag.

you’re it! you called, tapping me on the shoulder.

--

we raced across the sand, grains

flying from beneath our toes.

we touched each other lightly, and the birds

flew away from our shrieks of you’re it!

our footprints in the sand were left behind us

and the palm trees echoed our voices

back at us.

--

and i finally touched you on the shoulders,

pushing you down into the line that

bordered between the translucent water

and tan sand.

you sputtered sand and freshwater out

of your face, grinning all the while.