I felt both raw excitement and belonging as we stripped down upon the wave-licked bank, under cover of the black curtains of night.
We did this as if a ritual to prove us as friends, as sisters. I dove into the thick substance of water first, then the others followed making their own splashes and awakening the confused fish.
Upon surfacing my perfume, lotions and makeup had been simply washed away—diluted and gone, as Mother Nature intended. Untouched by mankind, I smelled of nothing but fish scales and dried seaweed.
We floated upon our backs in the cool glass water, as a dragon of stars breathed his fiery star dust breath. Falling gems glazed upon our heads, trickling and reflecting back upon the water.
The moon hovered over us, so fat and full as if it had just eaten a huge meal. It bled a golden blood upon the sky. I sighed a sigh of wonder.
When cold we left this world, walking to the grassy bank, water drops dripping down our bodies. We then danced around a smokey campfire. Our pale bodies cutting the night’s blackness. Our wet hair twirling, slapping the air as we danced like beasts throughout the enchanted night. The crickets our musicians. The fireflies our disco lighting. Nothing felt so real.
Upon the morn, the sun presented a warm colored rise. The moon bid us farewell, as did the cover of the night. Sheepishly dressing, bare feet kissing the dew-soaked grass, we laugh—knowing in our very souls that we shall always be friends.
Author: Hannah Seelman
Assistant Editor: Hilda Carroll / Editor: Catherine Monkman
Photo via Flickr