Toss Writing

Once upon a time, there was a boy who dreamed of the ocean. Though he lived in the city he yearned for the smell of sea salt. He would spend most of his days admiring all kinds of goggles of all sizes and shapes, swimsuits that were of all kinds of watery smooth textures in the local marine accessory store. He would buy one of the goggles on display and at home in his small bath tub would turn the water on and pretend as if he were under the sea. The spray of the nozzle was the splash of the waves, his fallen soap a marine animal that the world had never before seen. The steamy air and the water droplets that accumulated on the worn ceiling and dripped down would be rainstorms. His bathtub was his ocean. He was the world's pirate, adventuror, and ocassionally the unlucky sailor sent to Davy Jone's locker, which happened when his bathtub clogged with hair. But his bathtub drained. The ocean never drained. As he grew older and taller his ocean became swallower. He couldn't dive as deep as he could until one day his ocean could barely contain him the only marine animal in it. Frustrated he turned the knobs of the bath tub this way and that as if opening a combination lock. Suddenly the drain opened up and he was sucked into the hole below him. Ahhhh! He barely had time to scream.

Naked, he could feel the wind howling in his ear as he fell. It was a long fall-and all of a sudden, he felt some fragrance of the sea touching the tip of his nose. There he was free. Free from the plastic tub that used to limit him. Free from the bitter scent of the old bathroom, free from the concrete jungle that made him almost impossible to breathe.

Everything was elongated as he rushed through time and space. As if in a trance he blinked slowly, letting the colors fly by his eyes. Voices, old and new maybe even from the distant future, whispered in his ears. Music to his ears and fire to his lips, the boy opened up his mouth. It was just on the tips of his tongue as voices hammered on his eardrums. They rushed through his blod streams rising in crescendo."This is everything" voices rose in harmony as wind rushed through his hair. He opened up his arms, letting the wind take him, as voices shouted in chums, calling, calling-calling out to something that had been dormant inside him. Like delicate fingers drumming on the heart of the guitar, delicate voices rang inside him, coaxing him to open himself wider and wider. The words tumbled out of his lips, not even faking those step of stairs. The boy's eyes, electric blue, opened up in shock. The deep blue folds of the ocean waves were getting closer and closer to him, but caught up in the word that just left his lips, he let himself fall. The word, that lay in him forgotten for year, decades, eons, maybe for a time longer than time itself was finally out. Bursts of air left his lungs in gasps and his senses, sensitive than ever were lit on fire. The word was....