Touch the Sky

A piece I wrote for my final manuscript in Imaginative Writing last semester. This piece is about a girl having fun in a park.

She could feel the breeze.

It brushed over her hands, her face, and it was gentle; she knew that today the weather was mild and everyone would enjoy it. She felt the hem of her dress rising a little bit. But she knew that it wouldn’t go up too far. No one was around, anyway; there was no reason to car. She had convinced her mother to take her to the park. She liked being there. The trees stood tall and the grass even seemed to bounce back to life after being trodden on by her small feet. There was no reason to fear anything. No reason to feel anything but extreme peace.

The park had its own chorus. The quiet howl of the wind formed the melody, in would waft the laughter of children and the barking of dogs. Even the zing of the metal equipment when it was touched seemed to add to the musicality of it all. She loved listening to it. She could hear her mother speaking to someone in the distance, and she decided to spin around. It was slowly, at first, with the wind’s volume picking up just a tad, whispering in her ears a secret that the others couldn’t hear. With each turn, she tried to speed up a bit more, the breeze changing to a gale. The gale turning into a storm as she felt herself getting lightheaded. Liquid seemed to materialize in her ears, sloshing about like a frozen drink from the store left to melt a little in the sun. It made its way up to her brain until there were no sensations other than the waves in her mind—an ocean of happiness, splashing about. And when the tides proved too much for her to handle she wiped out, giggling as she made her way to the ground. She loved this park. She loved this spot. She loved the sky.

She reached up to touch it, and for a moment, she thought that she could feel it. Genuinely feel it. She imagined it, clouds, misty forms of water, passing through her hand. Wet, probably. Most likely. That’s what all the books said. That clouds were wet because of the water that they held. She loved being wet. She loved rain. Whenever her mother wasn’t paying attention, she went outside when it was raining, even if she knew that she was going to get sick. She loved the raindrops hitting her. She loved the cold feel of it. She loved water. She loved weather. There was nothing to fear. It was all just clouds. Harmless clouds.

Then she felt her mother’s hands on her, pulling her up, asking if she was okay. She nodded, giggling. She was happy, smiling, free. Touching clouds that she would never see.

The End

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