Word: Ill Seen, Ill Said.

Naked, I dive in. Seaweed tendrils circle my legs, tickling the back of my knees, coaxing me down. I plunge again, lungs gulp-full of air. Little particles move like dust motes across my path. My arms break them into a swirling, eddying torment.

Now, I go deeper, my lungs starting to hurt, the water darker, cocooning all around me, stilling my senses. My head lightens. And I wonder if what’s left is the real me or the adrenalin talking. But I feel loose, meant to be underwater, happy to give it all up and let the undertow take me.

The water flecked now with glitter. Without deciding, I’m moving back towards the sun on the surface. And I’m there. Gasping and spluttering for breath through smiles, exhilarated and beat. I look back at the boat; yesterday’s bikini still drying in the sun. I flip and turn, kicking further out. I’m not ready to go back to all that yet.

Thanks to Jane of Ill Seen, Ill Said for this week’s edition of Word! You can check out guest posts from past weeks right here.

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