By G.O. Elliott
The life-flashing trope was, she discovered, untrue. At least for her.
All she saw was the endless ocean, white-tipped waves occasionally crashing into her. Wet hair. Burning legs. Cold skin. Unlike the movies, she saw no menacing shadows moving under her. Just emptiness. Emerald green giving way to navy to…the abyss.
Meanwhile, the midday sun, unflinchingly bright, hurt her eyes; she wished for sunglasses. Immediately the ‘spy’ sunglasses with tiny mirrors on the edge of each lens she had in third grade, sprang to mind.
How strange, she thought as her body relented, accepting the pull down. Beneath the waves.
A nicely written tragic tale with great imagery.