festive and lunacy in fiction: flash, one word, etc.

The plates were yellow and orange, scattered on tables set amid the green foliage, bright against the blue water of the pool. The napkins and forks were tied together, purple plastic inside grass green paper and the party was ready to go. Except no one remembered to check the forecast.

The moon did it. It had to be the moon that took me out on the beach that late, where the waves were whipped into a frenzy and the creatures on the sand skittered across my bare feet. I wanted to dive into the waves, feel the cool water and swim across the sea in the moonlight. We all know where that kind of thinking leads though. It’s the ocean, not Disneyland.