Joanna jumped across the purple rocks nestled against the sea, and when she found a nice spot with a close view of the water, she lay on her side with a notebook and pencil in hand, cradled on the nook between two large boulders.
Stationery had been a luxury during the war, but now that it was over, she could afford to buy some basic supplies and take the time to continue her drawing studies. During the war there was no time for sketching, not unless it was in the service of war itself. Her uncle, for example, used to be a painter, but during the war he made a living drawing blueprints for the force, and even designed posters to motivate the population.
The waves lapped against the rocks and made the most wonderful gurgling sound. The neon-blue seaweed floated gently beneath the waves. Joanna was mesmerized by its motion, back and forth, swaying in a most elegant and complex way.
Houston, her golden retriever, came over and sniffed around.
“What are you doing, silly boy?" she said stroking him. "What are you looking for, eh?”
Houston looked up at her, barked once, attempted to lick her face, then skipped along the rocks wagging his tail.
She looked at the waves, the play of light on them, the dance of the seaweed beneath the water, and the many delicate shadows that ebbed and flowed in the calm yet lively sea. She drew a few tentative lines. Stopped. Her eyes darted from detail to detail, pencil hovering over the page. Then she began anew. She drew as fast as she could draw without thinking too much about it. When she was done, she examined her work. It was a composite image of the seaweed dancing in the waves. To an observer, the work would look superb, but she simply tsk-tsked, shook her head, and turned to a new page.
Why couldn’t she get the motion right? The sense of movement in the stillness of the page. Maybe one day, she would save enough funds to afford a light-box and actually capture the movement, not just the flat impression.
She flipped the page.
Houston barked.
“Oi, what are you going on about, boy?”
Joanna peered over the edge of the crater and saw Lilly running down the beach.
Houston ran towards Lilly and jumped on her, sending both of them down onto the rusty red sand.
Joanna giggled.
At last, Lilly managed to disentangle herself from Houston and came up the rocks, gasping for air.
“You should’ve gotten a poodle,” said Lilly looking at the frisky pooch.
“What is it?” Joanna asked her. “I told you not to bother me.”
Lilly reached into the pocket of her dress and took out an envelope.
“It’s from Mark,” she said with a big smile.
“From mark!? Give it here.”
Lilly put the envelope behind her back and blew kisses at her cousin.
“Joanna and Mark, sitting on a tree, K-I-S-“
“Don’t be a pest,” Joanna told her. “This is serious!”
“It’s not so serious,” Lilly teased her.
“How would you know?”
“’Cause I already read the message.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Lilly finally relented and handed over the letter to Joanna who eagerly read it.
Sweetest Love,
My tour is coming to an end, and I’ll be home soon. We depart Earth on Thursday and will arrive on Mars within a month’s time. I cannot wait to see you and hold you. Give everyone my best, and tell Lilly, I look forward to her new cookies recipe.
Always,
Mark
She read the letter several times as if trying to extract some secret meaning. It was almost like a dream. After two years away on that terrible planet, he was coming back to her.
She realized that Lilly was looking at her with a big grin.
“You DID read it, didn’t you?” Joanna accused her.
Lilly laughed and scrambled along the rocks with Houston barking alongside her.
Joanna peered over the rocks and looked at the waves. The light sparkled on the water. She wondered if the seas on Earth looked the same as those on Mars.
Overhead, the sound of a biplane crossed the orange sky. She tried to get back to her sketching but with the news from Mark, it was hard to concentrate. She watched the seaweed dance for a little awhile. She would certainly save for a light-box, she decided. You could even make three-dimensional films with it. Who knows? She might be able make a living making films and showcasing them at art festivals. Now that the war was over, the sky was the limit.
Thank you for reading my entry to The InkWell prompt #55: Lens.
Images and video by @litguru
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