My favorite sayings: If it looks good, you'll see it. If it sounds good, you'll hear it. If it's marketed right, you'll buy it. But... if it's real, you'll feel it. - Kid Rock
The waves crashed below her, sending a hardly noticeable spray of water up around her, giving her even more of a chill as she continued to mimic a statue atop of the great rock. Behind the rock lay a field of sand, gray in tint with a hint of golden to it. Weeds and shells protruded from the blanket of sand causing imperfections small mounds in the sand, giving the impression of a distant planet's surface. As the sand continued, it slowly gave way to a section of weeds and tall grass which encircled a large, Victorian-style house. The building, which had once been white, now reflected the gray of the moment, emphasizing the cracks in the exterior wood and the imperfections and sand scrapes in the paint.
Caroline closed her eyes and opened them again in a slow, grim blink that seemed to take hours. Her blond-brown hair which was cut at the very place it reached the shoulder rippled against the growing breeze and her eyes narrowed slightly as another spray of mist washed over her. She was truly a picture of beauty, representing a homely country girl combined with a glamorous clothing model. But on this day, especially in this moment, she couldn't help but be a little gray. She had to, after all, blend somewhat with her surroundings.
Minutes crawled by and she still did not move. Even behind the gray clouds, it was evident that the sun was nearly gone, giving way to the moon and the night which Caroline dreaded. And still, she didn't move. Finally, as the sky changed from gray to a dull darkness indescribable with color, the young woman turned and strolled back to her house. As she neared the house, crossing the sheets of sand and weeds, the sound of the turning ocean faded behind her.
She walked into the house, flicked on the light, and crossed the beautiful hardwood floor to the stairs which led to the massive upper level of the structure. The interior of the house was truly remarkable, reminiscent of an issue of Better Homes and Gardens, including mostly hand carved mahogany furniture, dull red and blue colors covering all the blankets, pillows and rugs. A few potted plants were scattered around the bottom level which included not only an incredible living room, but also a dining room, kitchen and a small secluded study.
As she reached the stairs, she reached over to the wall and pushed the light switch down, once again submersing the room in darkness. She silently climbed the stairs of the house, her face not changing at all, her muscles seemingly not tensing against the strain of the stairs. At the upper level's base, she stopped and turned to her right, slowly gliding across the floor to a large couch, where she sat down. She reached up and flicked on the lamp next to her, flooding the room with a dull glow.
Slowly she undressed, switching from her flowery summer dress to a plain T-shirt and shorts. Tossing her clothes into a basket piled high with other clothes, Caroline climbed into her bed. She pulled out a novel and began to read, scanning the pages quickly, flipping past five pages a minute, taking in every word. Finally, after about 20 minutes of her eyes darting back and fourth, she felt herself growing tired and tossed the book aside and pulled the covers over herself. She looked over at the light switch for a second, and then it flicked to the 'off' position, flooding the room once again with darkness.
She lay in bed for several hours, letting her mind flow freely, not stopping any thoughts that occurred to her. She spent many nights like this, in a state of half-consciousness, her mind wondering down a path never before seen by the light of day, a route made completely from random tangents and unexpected twists and turns. She had always had trouble sleeping, and many nights, she would lay in her bed, her delicate eyes opening and closing softly and slowly and her mind flowing like a river, constantly changing and flowing.
It was nights like this that made her mind work overtime, traveling at a much quicker pace, attempting to explore any and every possibility it encountered. Since her early teenage years, Caroline had been searching, not only within herself but also within others to find the true meaning of life and the true purpose of living it. A lot of the time she would think for hours on what it was she expected from life, always seeking an answer, and always coming up empty. But she continued her search.
She often tried to dream, but found herself rationalizing every thought and therefore destroying all of her hopes and fantasies and placing her back at square one. She wished she could dream, if for no other purpose than to have something to strive for, a goal which she could at least visualize instead of constantly wondering why it was she did anything she did.
The Short Stories of Dave Mazzola