there's a story in this / edition 2 / on the horizon

via

Heel, toe, heel, toe, she walks confidently down the sandy path that leads to the beach. Her short hair is pulled back in a pony tale; a sign of a hard worker, or someone with little patience for vanity (probably both), and her feet seem to dance along the trodden trail as she moves.

Footprints kiss the soil, damp from the recent rain, and breathes of air toss her bangs in her face, sticking to her sweaty neck and freckled cheeks. Alive. That was how she always says the ocean makes her feel. As if she could conquer the world, or jump from a skyscraper and expect wings to prevent her body from crashing into the black pavement below.

She hurries faster as the call of gulls became a call to her heart, and the wind pulls her imagination on every adventure it suggested. Almost running over the slippery rocks, she finally stops, one foot higher than the other as she stands with legs spread for balance on the moss strewn foreshore. Crabs crawl away from her eager feet as she calms herself, her gaze directed out to the sea.

Waiting, it seems. For what, no one knows.

Curious observers wonder why the lady gazes out to sea with unwavering intensity. Her cheeks are flushed with impatience, and excitement and the sleeves of her knit shirt are pushed up to her elbows as she stands, rooted to the ground. At length, her smile deepens, and she points to something off shore; a small boat, with a hull of dull white paint, and a sail of shimmering blue material.

"Do you see it?" She laughs, asking anyone who is within ears reach, anyone who will listen, "Do you see him?"

A single form is highlighted as the sun sinks low on the horizon, and kisses the ocean. She waves, squinting, as the sun rays reach her illuminated eyes, a smiling stretching across her face. The boat turns, and slowly fades into obscurity, and she continues to watch, as the sun sinks, flaming, into the sea. 

Not sure what inspired this story. It just kind of captured my mind, and pulled my fingers along with it. Nothing like a good bit 'o fiction that has absolutely no significance, but is spun of imagination and dreams.