Ribbons of Fire {nessarose & I}

Stirling Raycroft ~ 15 ~ District 4

Stirling Persephone Raycroft had never been what people would call a social butterfly. The idea of new people was an intimidating one to her. First impressions weren't exactly her strong suit. Sure, she had a few friends, but did they really have anything in common? Her friends were fun to be around, of course, but she sometimes felt like that was the extent of their friendship. They didn't really understand Stir's feelings or her views. And they didn't quite understand her tomboyish nature, preferring to get their nails manicured than to climb a tree or go fishing.

Which is why, today, Stir was alone. Her friends has gone shopping without even asking her to come along (not that she really would have wanted to anyway) and she was left by herself on a Saturday with nothing to do. It was now nearing sunset; the sun hadn't yet begun to sink behind the horizon but it hung low in the sky, gilding the tops of the trees with its yellow light. Seeing this through her window, Stirling decided it was time to go to the beach. 

Ever since she was about six or seven, she would come to the shore at around six o'clock, painting the landscape before her. Her father used to take her there every Saturday evening (unless they were out of paints or canvases and needed to buy more), but now she was 15, old enough to come down by herself. She had to learn to paint sunsets fast; they came and left quickly. But when she finally learned to paint them quickly enough, it was definitely worth her time. By this time, Stir had accumulated about 200 paintings of varying size. And those were just the ones that she hadn't thrown away. Why did she keep painting if she already had so many?

Well, part of the reason was probably that Stirling thought there was always room for improvement. It was also probably because every sunset was different, and Stir thought each one was so beautiful that she had to capture them on a canvas in the way that she saw them. Besides, painting gave her a lot of time to be alone with her thoughts, and the ocean put her mind at ease.

Grabbing her bag of paint supplies, Stir grabbed her easel and hung it on her shoulder. Shutting her bedroom door behind her, she ran down the stairs and grabbed a banana from a bowl of fruit in the kitchen. She informed her mother, who was cooking, that she was going out and in turn was reminded to be back before supper. Promising she would, the 15-year-old exited the house through the front door and walked quickly down the road towards the beach, not wanting to miss the approaching sunset.

The beach was vacant and peaceful, totally quiet except for the sound of the waves gently lapping at the rocks by the shore. The sun hadn't yet begun to set but its yellow glow reflected off the water and rippled when the water hit the rocks. Seagulls circled and swooped overhead as a gentle breeze blew a few strands of Stirling's wavy brown hair around. Stir picked up a round, flat rock and snapped her wrist as she threw it out to the water, smiling as it skipped three times before sinking. She tied her hair back in a ponytail, as she usually did when she painted, and walked over to a large rock about ten feet from the water. She sat down on it and set up her easel, putting her bag of art supplies on the sand next to her. Pulling out a canvas and putting it on the easel, she kicked off her flip-flops and buried her toes in the warm sand, just because. Then she put some paint on her palette and filled a cup with water before putting the cup next to her on the rock and holding the palette in her right hand with brush in her left. 

By this time, the sun had just begun to sink its edges over the horizon, turning the evening sky into a swirling sea of fiery ribbons of clouds, making the usually beautiful birds look like dark silhouettes in comparison to its brilliance. It was fantastic. Stir started with the yellows and the oranges, dipping her brush in the paint and attempting to make the canvas seem as alive as the scene before her. She worked with the lighter colors first before swirling in the bold reds and purples, her brush dancing swiftly but gracefully across the canvas. She became so absorbed in bringing the painting to life that she blocked everything else out until she could only see and hear and smell the sunset and the salty water beneath it.