The sea water was cool without being at all uncomfortable, and the young girl, in a pink bathing suit that served as an emblem to her innocent and wholly unstained passions, ducked beneath the frothing waves with a thrill foreign to her. It was the thrill of the unknown, of castles and mighty fortresses beneath that water that beckoned to her to grow gills and swim to them as a fish would, emerald and scarlet scales ablaze with the half golden sunlight that lingered upon the water's edge, moving as a rippling hide of an unseen creature whose back was encrusted with diamond. Her white arms, touched by the morning's freshness, clutched at the ocean as if to hold it, to cup it within herself so that she may escape to its roaring and unrelenting crashing upon the sand. It was beautiful in its uninhibited wildness, of its disregard of nature or command, as a falcon or a feral thing is, and she felt that she herself was becoming the rocking waves, tossed in its swirling eddies of desire and longing. A heated blush crept into her cheeks as she threw her hands to the white clouds of heaven, of a chaste world unsullied by change, of golden trumpets and violet gates, a world that all souls prayed feverishly would await them when the crimson banner of death waves in black air in front of their fading eyes.
She gave it a bitter, saccharine smile, for she felt a rising within her, as hot air bubbling and frothing above cold, of a sort of hardening and suppleness within herself that almost desired to curse such probability. The sea had whipped her into something new, something feline that waited in wilderness to stalk unsuspecting prey, something whose white arms and white legs desired more than the gentle longings of a child. The sand was warm beneath her feet when she lifted herself from the cradle of the ocean and looked towards the untamed brush in the distance, waving in cool blue strands of wind.