We were walking down to the dock in the dark, the moon tucked in to sleep by a layer of heavy clouds. A stiff breeze pushed the ocean up against the rocks. The floorboards of the dock were uneven beneath my feet, and I almost tripped as I felt my way slowly down to the edge of the water. I could barely make out the treeline at the edge of the forest in the distance, the dark silhouette of unknown territory rising up against a starless sky. Rowboats creaked and rocked against the tide. In the distance, I could hear the sound of someone playing the banjo and singing from another cabin. The water was calmer in the cove, its glassy surface reflecting any light it could find. I dipped my hand into the cold, dark water and dragged it along the surface, making sudden ripples of blue light shoot from my fingertips. The stars had fallen from the sky into the ocean; they were mine to hold.
Written by Anna Dietrich
Reflections 