Here is the final exercise inspired by The Writer’s Lexicon, by Kathy Steinemann. The book was alright, not as captivating, or enthralling as I had expected. (Did you notice the cool vocab?) That said, it did offer a fresh perspective. Focus on vocab. Keep the purple prose to a minimum. And teleport readers to other dimensions through words.
Thank you, Kathy. The following sketch goes to you.
. . .
The tidal wave crashed hard against the concrete pier, sending heaven-white foam into the air, which rained over me slowly.
My elbows were latched to the cool, metallic rail, the only thing keeping me there. All the while, the ocean washed my face. When I could, deep breaths filled my lungs. And I exhaled, the taste of sea salt and coppery adrenaline in my mouth. Here goes another.
Crash! Wave after wave struck the pier, which held its ground sturdy. Yet because the wind whirred so fiercely the blood rushing to my head made it seem like the pier was moving too. And here goes another.
Splash! Whoosh! Water up my nose. Dizzy. So excited. At times I forget to take in air. How much longer can I hold out? And is that a person screaming?
To my left, beyond the gray mist and the droplets in free fall that formed it, I saw the bubblegum-pink of a two piece. Also, fom that direction, more screaming.
But her voice came only muffled by the thrusting natural forces overwhelming us. And yet another frothy pounding hit me, sent darkness swirling before my eyes.
Coming to, I found my elbows detached. Only by one hand, grabbing onto the slippery, wet railing was I alive, still. My feet dangling off the edge of the pier. My heart loud enough to be heard, thumping inside my blue neoprene suit.
And then, “HEY!”
Now I could hear her, enough water having drained out of my ears by then. When I cast a glace yonder, ready to die, my grip slipping calmly, she was there, the woman in the goofy bikini. With a lifesaver.
