Confession

This piece is personal. Moreso than most.

I started writing months ago, desperate. I was mired in so much self-doubt and loathing I couldn't handle it. I had to do something to figure out where my heart and mind wanted me to go and be. Every time I tried to continue the story, nothing felt right.

All I read was...vitriol.

There was so little substance in the work, I couldn't bear to put it out into the world. The story deserved better, y'all deserved better, and I deserved better than to angrily scream at the world.

Finally, I wrangled myself together and said, "Look you're two thousand words into this thing, you gotta make it something worth reading. You heard what everyone said about your writing, now get your ass in gear and do it!"

So...that's what I hope I did. I really hope you all enjoy this story, it was absolutely worth writing. Mold me, wyrd Gaelic flames. E'er yet my hart estrange. Fathoms of fromage blanc as they say.

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Her old college swim coach always said-

"Pools rest the mind's soul. Under glass currents, weightless hearts float. Abandon yourself to her merciless remedies; she'll set your mind aright a hell'ston quicker than any sea."

Grand advice.

"Hey cutie cute!"

Philosophical.

"You ran off awful quick."

Half-stolen from Dmochowski Dymitr's eighteenth century treatise concerning river moss's effects on cyclically engorged pustules.

"Drink too much baby girl? I told you not to worry about it! I'll keep you from breaking tables if you get rowdy You know I've been working on my core lately~"

Really, who was she to complain about informal plagiarism? River moss application catalyzed swimming's conception as an athletic sport! Dymitr's theory postulating that continuous currents concocted within circular chambers coerced harmonious effects on rotting pustules facilitated ornate "church sanctioned healing springs" wherein patients churned moss laden waters via, "ritualistic rotation". Success in reducing boil outbreaks led to public healing pools the government banned for fear of charlatan scams.

"You can't ignore me forever Iyodine. We have to talk eventually."

Unwilling to see monetary benefit evaporate, merchants recategorized their pools as games of skill, drafting rules to seduce populace and officials alike into giving their endeavor legal sovereignty. Thus, swimming was born! Course back then it was called Święte Wiosło, because fuck the religious connotations straight to hell those savvy money peddlers did. Wasn't the most ad friendly name of the century, but it worked all the same! People came for miles on to try their hand at earning coin, renown, and exotic aquatic animals.

"Alright then, you asked for it!"

Too bad, really, despite their nuanced history, pools were thumbtacks when you needed them.

"C'mere you."

Sleeve warmed arms drew her atop a taller body, cradling her hips atop crossed thighs. Curling herself into the bowed stomach nook, wriggling to get her hips off kilter the way she liked, Iyodine nuzzled Abiera's shoulder, dunking her nose into orange moonlight reflected and hazy. Breathing bubbles beneath the wake, she dribbled water off her knuckles, trying to fit the poolside tea lamps into the droplets center as they fell. Antler shaped shades lit by three wicked candles, they weren't cooperating, defaulting to the droplets edges no matter how angled her wrist rolled.