As promised, the new word has been chosen by Kirsty!
The word this week (and next week due to holidays!) is: Umbrella
Since Kirsty is holidaying in Italy and I’m stuck in rainy England, our interpretations already may be slightly different…who knows where we’ll go with this one!
Elias’ hair was thick, golden, more a mane than hair. He knew he was a handsome man, as did those around him, particularly women. He used it to his advantage in his occupation as a pilot where a life of glamour was the main concern for many of his peers. As a pilot for one of the best known airlines in the Mediterranean, Elias was known both locally and further afield, his reputation often preceding him. He had eyes for many girls, one in particular in fact, yet as many a tale goes there was one for whom he had no interest, despite her infatuation in him. Cleo was pretty, her face small and mouse-like with delicate features and the widest eyes. She moved quickly, particularly in the water, where she spent most evenings. As a competitive swimmer, time in the water was essential, and the rhythm of lengths, up and down, backwards and forwards, seemed to suit her concentrated nature. She could often swim for hours, only to look at the clock by the pool and realise she had missed dinner, and most of her evening plans.
Her interest in Elias was indirectly sparked by a conversation with friends one evening. One of the girls she spent most of her time socialising with described a man she had not long since dated, described him as tall, blond, and a pilot. Nothing that really interested Cleo- her dedication to swimming far outweighed any interest in men. Besides, she barely found time for herself and the pool, there was no room for anyone else. She was not yet hooked. A few weeks later, she found herself with the same friends once again, and Elias’ name came up in conversation. She asked to see a photograph of him, mainly out of curiosity, she found it hard to understand her friend’s keen description of him when he apparently remained so disinterested in her. As an airhostess she regularly described colleagues- stewards and pilots alike- and Cleo had never shown an interest before. Her friend flicked through the reams of photos on her phone, a blur of colour and faces, memories all running into one. She settled on one, handed over the phone and Cleo was struck by how little justice her friend’s description did to describe Elias.
The pool was almost always empty when Cleo went, the advantage of eating at unsociable hours granted her the pool to herself most of the time. Particularly in summer, where the buzz of barbecues and lazy evening drinks meant most people succumbed to a life of less commitment, and skipped their pool session. But this was Cleo’s favourite time of year, the pool was all hers, and the long daylight hours meant more time for one to wash into another until the day was gone. She always approached the water in the same way, holding onto the cool, reassuring handrail whilst slowly dipping in her right foot ahead of her left. Then she waited for a second, less even, until lowering her lower half in, letting her body recover from the shock of being plunged into cool water. Then after enough hesitating she slipped under the surface, kicked off the wall and began. She knew exactly how long it would take to complete the twenty-five metres. She didn’t need a watch, or someone spotting for her. It took forty-six heartbeats, flip, push and 46 more. It took a few lengths to settle out, but after about four the rhythm came easily.
The evening that she had seen Elias’ photo for the first time, she wished she had gone to the pool. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt comforted by the knowledge that tomorrow she could go there and restore the equilibrium that had inexplicably disappeared.
When she woke up the following day, her mind would not settle. She scratched at any imperfection she could find on her skin, nervously scratching it away. She couldn’t resist. She sent her friend a message asking her if she could maybe organise something soon. Perhaps bring along her work friends, the pilot too maybe? When had she ever felt so sociable? Her friend agreed, and the date was set.
When the evening came, Cleo considered cancelling many times. She had the feeling of being in new, uncertain waters, and she didn’t much like it. But she forced herself to go. When she finally laid eyes on him, she realised that she was indeed in unchartered waters. Her obsessive heartbeat counting was almost impossible when he walked back from the bar towards the table. There were others present, but Cleo only saw Elias. She tried to focus, to count, to run her fingers over her arms until she found something to scratch at, but there was nothing there. Only Elias. And his golden hair. She found herself smiling, tilting her head to one side, her appetite for a drink even completely gone. As the evening wore on a girl appeared by his side, sorry she was late, and so pleased to meet everyone, and his arm twisted around her waist, and Cleo’s stomach flipped and pushed off the side, and her heartbeats were uncountable again, and he kissed the girl on the cheek and Cleo was sure her heartbeats weren’t normal and tried to count them but couldn’t, and then it was hot. Very, very hot. And she left. The wind completely taken out from her sails. She walked home with her head in another place, until finally arriving home for a fitful night’s sleep.
Weeks had passed, and Cleo couldn’t shake the feeling. She knew she shouldn’t have messaged him that evening, after begging for his number from her friend. He had been gracious with her, explaining that if ever she wanted to go out with him and his girlfriend, perhaps others too, that would be wonderful. It stung more than chlorine in her eyes. The summer was in full swing, the world seemed to be bursting with flowers and fruit, light and warmth; yet Cleo could only think of him. She had a new habit now, every time an aeroplane passed overhead she would look up and wonder if it was him. She would stop whatever she was doing to throw her head up, face turned up to the sky, eyes as wide as they’d go, to see. It was a torturous habit, she never really knew if it was him or not, and she would spend hours after trying to decide if it was feasible that it was his plane.
The pool missed her presence. It sat empty in the evenings, the water seemed denser without her gliding through it every day. The clock, its second hand gliding round seamlessly, ticked for no-one. Her new obsession had taken centre stage, she had tried to swim, but she clumsily dropped into the water, the temperature all wrong, and she couldn’t quite remember how many seconds it took for a length. How did she used to time herself? She swam awkwardly, flopping over at the end of a length and pushing off at an angle. Cleo persevered for only a few more days, then convinced herself that an injury must be to blame. Rest was the best option. So she had taken up walking into the fields around her home, aimlessly wandering, watching the clouds to see if the familiar white trail appeared marking his arrival. Her friends called, to no response, eager to hear that she was ok. But no reply came, her new hobby had her very busy. She had found a spot to sit and watch the clouds and sky, and watch for Elias.
Days rolled into weeks, and summer was clinging on. The friend who introduced Cleo to Elias was anxious to hear from her, and knew about her new walking route. She wandered the fields looking for Cleo, she was never at the pool any more, no-one seemed to really know where she was. She eventually came across a small patch of grass that looked like it had been worn down over some time. There was no sign of Cleo, but a tall, lone sunflower. Its delicate face turned up toward the heavens, searching the sky for the sun.
My story this week was very loosely inspired by the Greek myth of Clytie and Helios, although after a little research apparently Clytie turns into a heliotrope, despite many sources saying she becomes a sunflower. Like I say- loosely!
So there we have it, two versions of our interpretations of ‘tower’. Thanks to everyone who has read the blog so far! Like I said in the very first blog, the whole point of this is for fun, and to hopefully develop our writing skills a bit more.
Kirsty would like to apologise for being slightly delayed in publishing her tower story- she had a busy week house-sitting and dog-sitting! I need to think of a suitable punishment for her rule breaking on the first ever week of wordbloggling- any suggestions will be greatly appreciated. I must say though, her post, in my slightly biased opinion, was well worth the wait!
Moving on to this week…our word this week is: Sunflower
We (Kirsty in-particular) promise to publish the next blog by Thursday. Enjoy!
wordbloggle 