Whispers

Ella sat alone, curled among the roots of a tree. Sand mingled with the grass around her, sticking to her feet, her hem dress brushing her ankles. The beach stretched before her and then the ocean took over. Dusk had just appeared and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hold its breath, caught in that strange time between sunlight and moonlight. A black and white photograph.

There was still movement in the moment. The waves rose and dipped, smooth and constant. Closer to shore they broke, rising and cresting, crashing into white foam that leaped forward, running, dashing, sprinting up the beach and then falling back, exhausted, to gather its strength again. The branches above Ella swayed, the leaves brushing together and the whole tree seeming to bend into the movement. The grass around its roots wiggled. In the slight breeze that tickled Ella’s ear and wound about her hair, the grass found reason to dance.

There was still colour in the moment. The strange murky blue-green of the ocean. The dark outline of the waves in the dusk, rising, heaving and falling, dipping behind others. When they rose to break the lights pieces of sunlight shone through the water, revealing pieces of marine plants, sand and tiny fish. The leaves above Ella were such a dark green in this light and the tree she curled against was nearly black, a shadow. The grass changed constantly, catching the last of the sunlight, turning silver in the growing moonlight. The sand that dusted it seemed to shine.

There was still sound in the moment. That strange, loud trickle as the waves far out hit each other, joining, gaining force. The sigh it gave when it sank lower, as if exhaling a deep breath. The water began to whisper as it rose on the break, curling over and the whispers gained force. Just as the wave turned over itself, bursting into white foam, the whispers sounded like a crowd’s secrets in a giant hall. The water reached up the sand, losing the sound, turning quiet and sleepy. It returned to the swell of the ocean to build up again. The soft wind egged the waves on, whispering its own words. These words tugged at the spray, wound up the beach and moved the leaves and branches above Ella, the grass at around her. In turn the leaves brushed each other, passing on secrets, whispering on their own breath. The blades of grass danced with each other, presenting the softest whispers of all. The tree seemed to moan, bending in the movement of everything.

There was feeling in the moment. Feeling that connected everything, bound it together, turned it into a single thing. The ocean swelled, feeling its strength gather, gathering the feeling in its belly. The wind caught it, carrying everything about it, the movement, the colour, the sound, taking those whispers and brushing it against everything else. It tugged against Ella’s ear and she listened, a soft smile on her lips. She leaned back against the tree and burrowed into its feeling. The strong, unyielding trunk, the extended roots curving against her and burrowing deep into the earth. The tree stretched up as well, its branches reaching for sunlight, its leaves sweeping together in the wind. A blade of grass tickled Ella’s foot. A single blade of grass that was part of all the other of its kinds and all of those were part of everything else. A constant moment that didn’t even pause in this strange moment between sunlight and moonlight.