The Sun Still Shines

She arose from the ocean.

Sea foam bubbled and thrived around her, jumping like fish at her feet. The water itself parted to make way for her, and she bent down to pet it, smiling and revealing perfect white teeth. 

Her body was perfect in every way, shape, and form. Her platinum blonde hair was as waves of pure earth, sofly reflecting the light of the sun; each strand moving freely in an ocean born breeze, a compliment to her stillness. Her sun kissed skin shone in the sunlight, as if it sparkled. With eyes of river waters, in glossy serenity, her aura seeped into the summer air. 

She was clothed in a brilliant white dress that dried the second it escaped the water. It billowed around her, trailing behind her in a playful and graceful sort of way, bending and twisting in the breeze. It displayed the perfect curves of her body, outlining a ten out of ten feminine figure. 

Her feet curled in the sand. They grasped the grainy substance and dove below it, letting the bits crawl in between her toes and sinking below it, diving into warmth and comfort. 

The woman's hands could have been on the cover of a magazine: baby soft and not a crack or bit of dried skin hanging off of them. There was a clever wisdom in the way they moved, a deft confidence. Her nails were not painted or tampered with, but formed a perfect arch atop her fingertips, not a speck of dirt in them. 

A man followed not far behind, but disappointing whomever should glance upon him after seeing the masterpiece that arrived before him. 

He wasn't a fit man; he didn't have muscles bulging from his arms or a defined jawline. His face was plain, just somebody who you would avoid eye contact with if you were to walk by him in the street. His eyes were a brilliant blue, flitting about nervously as he followed the woman. 

His back was hunched over, and he wore a tattered and worn plaid shirt with simple blue jeans. His feet were abnormally large. His chestnut brown hair was windswept, and pieces danced in the wind, trying to escape. 

His hands were rough and worn, dry and cracked. His fingernails were chewed off, leaving his fingers looking stubby and short at the top. 

But the woman reached back to him, her soft hands extended in a warm welcome to the shore. He looked up, hope and love softening his wild eyes and calming him. His once tense body was now relaxed.

He accepted her hand, drawing close to her and pulling her into a warm embrace. She laid her delicate head on his broad chest, gently closing her eyes and pulling the corners of her mouth up. The man's face softened and he melted into her embrace, a smile of his own forming and his worries of other's perceptions of him melting away. None of it mattered when he was with her. 

When they broke apart, their hands stayed interlocked as they continued up the shore, confidence and courage now radiating from both of them, not as two, but as one. 

All day they worked, hacking down trees and piecing things together. They braided leaves, gathered wood for a fire, and worked nonstop for hours. But even when he was bent over, exhausted, and drenched in sweat, he would look up at her, and they would share a smile that only lovers could bestow upon each other.

After a few years, another joined them. It was a small, beautiful baby that practically glowed. Her rosy cheeks were always brought up in a smile, and her laughter echoed throughout the island, seemingly bringing life to everything on it. 

As she grew, she wandered along the beach, mumbling and burbling nonsense, but always smiling. She had her father's eyes and her mother's soft face, her father's lean figure and her mother's tender aura. And every evening before they would fall asleep, the man and the woman would gaze up at the stars, lying on their backs and their bodies wrapped around one another, fitting perfectly together.

It wasn't long after their daughter had turned seven years old that another was brought into the family, this time a boy. His blue eyes were cheerful and full of mischief, practically begging for adventure. Soft freckles ran across his cheeks, especially coming out in the summertime. He had curly brown hair that became frizzy and untamed if not cleaned after a few days, and a wild spirit. He often ran along the shoreline, giggling and smiling as his older sister ran after him, shrieking with glee and delight. 

But it was the boy's need for adventure that took him. There was a large storm one night, and he crept outside as his parents slept. All they found of him the next morning was a shredded bit from his shirt, caught on a large stick that protruded from the ocean. 

They mourned the boy for many weeks, only gaining small bits of happiness from their daughter, who remained bright and full of energy. But it seemed as if nothing were to go right for the couple. 

The girl died days later of a terrible fever, her last words about the sun, and how even on rainy days it still managed to shine. 

Her loss nearly destroyed the two lovers, bringing them to their worst and leaving them with no tears left to cry. They found out the woman was pregnant months later, but when the time came for the child to be born, it was not breathing. 

They thought that the universe was against them, that it would do everything in their power to make them miserable. The man felt badly about his sloppy appearance, and the woman believed she had done something wrong to kill the stillborn child. He felt as if he were not enough for his lover, and she felt that she was not cut out to be a mother. 

But they still had each other. 

They went on living, still sharing the same loving smile everyday, unknowingly motivating each other to keep pushing, to make it through the hard times. 

And as they lay on the sand, the waves crashing in the distance, they fit perfectly together, as one. The stars glimmered in the night sky, and the gods from above smiled down upon their creation of the beautiful woman and the ugly man. A match so unlikely, and yet their love so deep that they could not be torn apart.