by James Munz
Short story, flash fiction
|Clouds gathered in slow motion as the sky became ever-increasingly full of gray. There she stood, at the edge of the diving board, covered in what seemed to be an assortment of craft paint, string, and yarn on top of her clothes. Ornaments and utensils were tied to the ends of some of the dangling cords. They tossed about as she began to whirl and maneuver her body like it was being contorted by a puppeteer. It began to rain and the paint became streaks and trails along her face and body. The drops of rain landed into the pool water and created bubbles as if it were boiling.
He did his best to cut her down as he glared at her, hunched forward in the house. He stared past the living room’s wide window, repulsed with his daughter and her antics. His grating breathes clung to the window and fogged them up. Attempts at raising her had proved fruitless and, by the day, he knew she made it a point to prove to him she was worthless. His fists clenched and his body strained as the turmoil seethed within. He continued to watch on as if staring down an empty tunnel.
Her eyes were shut as she soon began twirling her wrists and motioning her knees and ankles about in various stances. The water vapor whipped around her as the rain picked up even more. Thunder murmured lowly, hidden deep within the clouds. Her body stuttered to this even more profound energy that captivated it. She raised her arms up to the sky, as if ready to fly, right as thunder vibrated throughout the house and the neighborhood. She took a step off the board and jumped, becoming new as she became submerged in the pool.