Writing: Moment in Time - Control

I have no idea where I am. The wind tears at my clothes like an absent lover. The sand, all glossy and black, shifts and moves with a life of its own beneath my feet. The waves swell and break on uncaring rocks, sending stinging spray into my face, making me turn away. A mocking thunder rolls across the purple clouded sky.

I stop and look around, taking in the wind, the sand, the waves, the rocks, and the clouds. I feel the anger in each of them. I feel the frustration and fury each of them holds. I close my eyes and raise my right hand, as if asking each to stop and hear me.

I feel the anger swell, as they spurn my offers to help. The waves break with a heavy crash and lighting arcs in fury across the dark sky. The wind whips my face, leaving marks deep and painful. The rocks, showing their defiance, turn jagged and harsh, threatening me with daggers of their own.

I refuse to back down and still plead for them to listen to me. I listen to each of them and one by one they calm. The sky, dark and threatening, floods the beach with light as the clouds part. The waves that were once hammering their hatred, calm until the sea is a sheet of azure-emerald glass. The rocks, abandoning their daggers, soften and start to break down, turning into pure white sand. The wind, ceasing it's infliction of pain, calms to a gentle breeze. The sand, glossy and black, changes around me, spreading out, with the speed of thought, a pristine, soft, white sand.

I lower my hand and drop to my knees, exhausted beyond the word. I bow my head but smile a weak smile as I cup a handful of sand. I let it trickle between my fingers as I watch with wonder as the sand twirls and twists around them.

I rise to my feet and look down the beach, breathless in its beauty. I continue walking, no longer caring where I am.