Once upon a tide, there was a wave. It was spinny and sparkly, dancing without a shoreline to return to. In the blue's echo, it whispered seaweed secrets. "Do fishes dream?" it pondered, gliding over sleepy sandcastles.
The wave rolled past coral homes where the forgotten bubbles fizzled out in lonely songs. Washed and wiry, the wave scooped a shell as a companion, telling it tales in soft whispers.
Sometimes waves crash, sometimes waves don’t. This one did cradle a floating, lonely wish. Hold it close, said the whispers of the deep, tighter than the grasp of an empty tide.
Echoing Caves Hidden Voice