Much Much More

Day 146 of 365:

{One Word Writing Prompt: Grain}

sparkle grain

“It’s just a grain of sand.” she said, nonplussed.  Lazy shrug.

“Is it, though?”  he asked, holding his hand out, palm open, facing up, closer for her to inspect.

She sighed, resigned, and peered closer at his hand.  He just seemed so insistent.  Crinkling her forehead and squinting her eyes, she peered in to his open hand, where lied the grain of sand in question.

At first, she saw nothing more than she had already seen.  I small, unassuming piece of the beach that stretch out behind them.  It was so small, almost invisible.  It was a spec.  No.  It was tinier than a spec.  It was a spec of a spec. Only….

Wait.

She angled her head closer gently grabbing onto his hand with one of hers.  Where her eyes playing tricks on her?

At first, with just the slightest, almost undetectable twitch, the spec moved.  She jumped in surprise, lifting her head slightly, and then moving back in to see if it would happen again.

It did.

It shifted in his palm, and then began to dance.  A random, staccato rhythm that made no sense to her at all, yet was happening all the same.

But then ….it wasn’t so much that the grain of sand was moving on its own, but now it began to shine as well.  Disco ball shine.

She watched in awe, as if in a trance, as the grain suddenly sparkled and dazzled with a luminance she’d never known to be possible.

Like a million rays of sunshine, and billion pools of shimmering moonlight so impressive,  it caught her breath and took it away. ‘Such a teeny, tiny spec of a grain, she thought – how can it be? How is possible that it dazzles so,
heaving this beauty and warmth upon me?’

sparkle

“Oh -” she breathed aloud, a mixture or awe, wonderment and excitement spilling out into the space between them.  “Is it….is that…?”  she stumbled, disbelief climbing up her throat.

He was already nodding even before she spoke.  A smile broke out over face, slowly at first, hesitant.  And then it broadened, her eyes dazzling like the grain of sand in his palm.  A thousand thoughts and possibilities pouring into her head at once, like a waterfall.

“Can I – hold it?”  she asked slowly, prepared to beg if she had to.

To her dismay, he shook his firmly, closing his palm, concealing the sparkle and clatter of the grain.  Her smile melted into a pout as the sight and spectacle vanished from her sight into the depth of his grip.

“You’re not ready.  Yet.”


Ha!  Totally went fiction here.  🙂  Writing like this feels like going for a really fast run around the block a few times.  Gets me pumped.  Flexes my (writing) muscles.  Phew!

Time for a rest…

 

Namaste,

-Janice 🙂

 

wtg logo_sm

 

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