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Title: It was Green
Author: Tyrror
Rating: PG
Summary: A very short piece in which I worked on my descriptive abilities.


It was green. Not the kind of green that you would paint anything, at least not by choice, but it was green none the less and, in the end, that was what mattered most. Those who have never been there are rarely able to truly grasp the concept that is a northern ocean viewed from a rocky shore during that awkward time between fall and winter when the air can't make up it's mind if it wants to caress you or bite at your face like an icy whip. For those who have never had the distinctly disappointing pleasure of which I speak, I give you this. The northern sea in late November is a roiling-black in the distance, a massive expanse of liquid nothing crashing toward the shore which, with no warning and for no reason that the human eye can detect...is suddenly green. Waves crash towards you, the darkest green with bits of black still tumbling through them, the color of every monster under every bed in every child's room everywhere and yet, when the eternal gray that is the sky parts for but a moment, such a brief moment, they become awe inspiring. Mountains of jade filled with dark and trimmed in sliver-white, beauty so quickly gone but so great that it is worth waiting for...waiting so long for in the wind and the cold and the half-light.

In this moment, it was green. In the air there was the faint smell of fish and the strong smell of salt; beneath me the sand made a grinding noise as I shifted from one foot to the other and I shuddered slightly at the sound. My face was wet from the mist, or perhaps it had begun to rain, I wasn't entirely certain and almost looked up to check the sky when, as it never had before and I can only hope it never will again, the ocean...blinked.

His face was soft, marred by an ugly look of pain and reluctance. He looked at me and gave me a smile, not a real smile, but one he obviously wanted me to have and I was forced to recall an old song about smiling when your heart is aching. I wondered briefly what could force him to give such a smile when the waves crashed and he reached up to wipe one from his face.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered as he quickly turned to leave.

Something in me wouldn't move, couldn't move as he drifted away across the sand into a backdrop of gray sky. My limbs hung heavy and my chest moved in a way I knew it ought not as the waves crashed again but this time I was forced to clear my face alone. In the distance, the clouds lingered in the wind and the light shimmered. For but a moment, such brief moment, he looked back and his eyes caught mine. I saw the sea and the sand and the gray and the cold. For a moment, I saw what I came here to see.

They were green...and then they were gone...

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December 2012

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