Cypress Branches Literary Journal - Lamar State College-Orange

Prose – Second Place
Sun, Sand and Sisters
Kim Hollingsworth
Tammie sat frozen in fear as she trembled on the seat next to her big sister as they streaked down
the highway at breakneck speed. The wind was whistling through the open truck window, causing Kim’s
blonde ponytail to thrash to and fro. She sat on her dad’s lap steering that old black and white Ford
pickup truck. The salty sweat was trickling down the side of her sun-kissed face. As Kim turned that old
pickup truck on two wheels off the hot asphalt road and onto that sandy covered road, they could smell
the river as they approached; it smelled as though it had just rained. The faster they traveled down the
bumpy, sandy road, the more abundantly the dust would boil behind them. When they came to a stop,
the dust would converge into the cab of the truck, engulfing them as when a fire engulfs and consumes
dried leaves in the fall. The dust would attach to the sweat around their necks and leave a beautiful dirt
necklace.
As Tammie and Kim jumped from the cab of the truck, their bare feet were thrust into the warm,
gritty sand that weaved its way between their toes. They would race each other, with their hearts
pounding, up those rough-cut lumber stairs, carefully trying to avoid getting one of those jagged
splinters embedded into their feet. Once they reached the top of the stairs, they were gasping for air.
When they entered the camp, they would go directly to the enormous bay window and be mesmerized
by the sight of the river that moved swiftly downstream. They would turn to each other and instinctively
lock their pinkie fingers together and shout, “Sisters and forever!” Watching the river was like looking
at liquid glass, so shiny, sparkling and bright. They knew soon they would be gliding on that shiny,
sparkling glass to play on the sugary white sandbar across the way.
Their mom and dad would be busy attaching ropes to the empty milk jugs; the empty milk jugs
would soon become the flotation devices that would help transport the sisters across the river. Their dad
carefully connected the milk jugs to both of their arms; he would lead them down to the river’s edge.
Their dad would slowly submerge beneath the cool crisp water. Their dad would urge them one by one
to wade out into the water to meet him. Kim went first; as the cool crisp water crept up around her, she
became suddenly aware that she was drifting gently in the current. They glided safely across the river to
the sugary white hot sand that was waiting to scorch their bare feet. They would sit for hours, on that
sandy river bank, building sand castles. Tammie would build a castle, and Kim would build one bigger.
Then as their day would slowly draw to an end, the waves would rise and fall ever so discreetly, making
their works of art disappear.
Their stomachs would be growling so loudly it sounded as though African lions were caged up in
there. Only one thing could quiet those lions, a red, ripe, juicy watermelon. The anticipation of cutting
into that huge green watermelon made the sisters’ saliva spew forth like fountains. When the sharp
glistening knife blade was inserted into that crisp green melon, it would begin splitting and cracking
with not much effort from the knife. Tammie and Kim both knew that momentarily red, ripe, juicy
goodness was going to explode. After they had devoured the flesh of the melon, they would carry the
rinds to the burn pile located below the bay window where the security light would illuminate the stage
for the nightly raccoon show.
When the sun gave way and let the moon take over in the stillness of the night, the raccoon
family would come for a visit. The huge fluffy one was Zelda, and the one with half its tail missing was
Henry. Before they would begin eating, they would scurry down to the water’s edge with the liquid glass
lapping at their tiny feet. They would ever so gently reach into the cool river water and wash their hands.
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