Semi-Daily Scribbles

Sam's arms ached as she swam toward the rocky shore. She'd been out to sea for so long she forgot there was a whole other world, sharp and hardened, that had to be dealt with from time to time. That time had come back around. Seven years felt like a walk around the block. Sam would have to learn all over again how to use her legs in that way once she crawled onto the beach. A flash of long lost memory reminded Sam how she hated the feel of tile against her skin, standing in an open room under an icy jet of chlorinated water. And the cloth the sisters made her wear was coarse and heavy. But this was the trade-off for absolute freedom every seven years. Sam's shift from sprite to obedient servant kept her family safe from the gatekeeper's vengeance. She broke the rules and learned to swim, and fly, and dance among the stars. Such knowledge came with a price, and Sam would pay the penalty over and over again by being ripped from heaven as soon as she got used to it.