Glimmers

Yesterday, my fiction class and I traveled to a beach on the other side of the island. After we packed ourselves into this rickety van, Pam told us that our assignment for the day is to write three glimmers during the course of our trip. Pam describes glimmers as extremely vivid moments we experience. This is how most of her stories are written: a collection of glimmers. Here are the three that I wrote:

Glimmer 1

The loud screech of the brake pads thinning makes everyone wince at its painful whistle while our driver slows our rickety van down the steep cliff. The van bucks like an outraged stallion and the tires thump against each divot in the rocky terrain. A sharp turn around the bend sends passengers smashing into each other, pressing one unfortunate student against the window. One finger at a time, I attempt to crack my knuckles but I cannot get even one satisfying crack as this ritual repeats every five minutes or at least every time I’m able to relax my muscles enough to release my frightened grip. I focus on slowing my heartbeat by breathing deeply and keeping my eyes on the passing scenery, anxiously awaiting our target destination - the beach.

Glimmer 2

Stepping stones wobble underneath my weight as I walk across them, tiptoeing across them one stone at a time. Weeds and other prickly plants bite my ankles as I head towards the blue wooden door. Entering, I wonder how many people pack themselves inside to attend service, how tight the air must get, and feeling your neighbor’s hot and heavy breathing when the townspeople gather inside to celebrate the feast day of the church’s honorary saint. The faded scent of perfume lingers on the ashes of what used to be incense that sends my mind traveling to Easter mass back home. The gold décor that contrasts the building’s architectural humbleness combines into the beauty of true Greek authenticity.

Glimmer 3

Floating, I am experiencing weightlessness and serenity, feelings I have long since experienced. Extending my arms and my feet flapping against the gentle waves, I move with each rise and dip that the ocean carries me. The cool sea water splashes my face and salt seeps past my grinning lips. I’m smiling at the sun that illuminates a red glow against my eyelids which I have shut to accentuate the directionless current that rocks me to and fro. I glide my arms and stride my legs, still remaining afloat as my hand grazes my hair that swirls in the sea below me. My mind is set free, my worries are inexistent, and my only thought is one of imagining myself as an angel, gliding through the clouds of heaven in an eternal bliss.