The sea is blue

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
We are always looking for something...

Submitted: December 12, 2016

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Submitted: December 12, 2016



A man who never saw the beach decided to drive to the sea. He poked his clothes up and got in his car. It was day-off and he was free. The trip to the state was slight and fast, and soon he was in San Francisco. He took a room in a motel, and having taken two towers from the room, set out in looking for a beach.

It was sunny day, the sky was clear and blue, and he could hear gulls and smell the sea. All around him seemed was saying: “It’ll be very beautiful days-off, gay!” He smiled to each men and woman he met on his way to a beach.

He walked along the street and stopped on the crossroad. The traffic-light showed the red. He looked around and noticed a girl, maybe about twenty-five or older but not more than two-three years. She stood by street-light and waited as he. He greeted her, but she kept silent.

“I’m stranger in this town. Where’s a beach, you know?”

She said the beach was in the West and went away after they had crossed the street.

The man walked in the direction that the girl had gave him, but soon he found himself on the place which didn’t recall a beach.

“Hay, mister!” he called a shabby man who passed by him, “where's a beach?”

“A beach?” the stranger wondered. “Not here!”

“I see,” our man began to irritate. “Where it is?” 

The stranger indicated in the direction of the sea.

“You see the blue surface? The beach is there.”

The stranger seemed very glad by saying this and smiling went away.

“What idiot!” murmured our man, and went on towards the blue surface.

He went through some streets and crossroads before he felt he was tired. He set down on a bench and wiped up his face by the tower he had taken from the motel. In this time a man passed by him. Our man, who had lost all his hopes, seized hold of stranger’s sleeve.

“Please, help me!”

The stranger looked glum, he glanced around but here were nobody to help.

“Please, please!” went on our man.

“Okay! What the hell is with you?”

Our man explained him his situation. The stranger became to laugh, but having noticed our man’s look finished at once.

“The nearest beach is in-n-n…” in this dramatic moment, when eye our man were full of trees of joy and his heart was about to jump up to his head, the stranger saw a tram, on which he had want to get to his home, and tore his hand from our man’s hands run. Our man stay alone, with his hands stretched out as though he was about to jump in the pool; really a pool was not here around.

An old woman, who went along the street, looked at him and said loudly:

“Fool! Go to a beach!” and went on the street.

“I’m to do that!” shouted our man, but she didn’t hear him.

Our poor man was about to go back to his motel when he saw a sign on the building: “The Beach.”

He went to it and looked around. A man went out of it and our man asked him here is a beach. The man looked at him surprise and answer that yes. Our man was glad to hear that and asked where it was.

“What?” the man, the stranger, asked.

Our man was anger and exclaimed him what he meant.

“The beach?” the stranger was surprised by our man’s exclamation and wanted to laugh but our man took him by his threat and shouted into his face:

“I’ve looking for a beach whole the damn day!”

Eyes of the stranger were about to run staying his owner alone.

“I think you need to go West…” he didn’t finished. Our man, when he heard the ward “West”, threw his aside and ran away.

Our man went over the city and didn’t look at anything. Once or two time he came up to a stranger and holding his collar or sleeves asked them where a beach was. But all of the people he met didn’t answer and run away. The policeman made him admonish and said him that all beaches were on west side.

Later, when our man was sitting on a bench, a taxi was passing by him and stopped.

“Hay, gay, why you weep?” the taxi-driver asked.

Our man told him his story and the taxi-driver took him to the beach for free. Our man wiped his tears and tanked him.

It was early evening what he got at the beach. The taxi-driver, smiling happy man, left him here.

He walked along the beach, pleasantly, looking for a place to rest.

The wind raise up to now and he began to want to be back in the motel.

He stopped behind a man who stood by his easel.

“Good evening,” said the artist.

Our man did and asked it was always whether here so cold.

“Usually not in the evening, but today is really cool enough.”

Our man threw his tower on the send and came up the edge of the water. The water stock his feet up.

“Don’t swim and take the sun now,” said artist.

Our man looked at him.

“Too cool,”

Our man looked at the sea, it was clear and blue and the bright road of violet light of sundown was on it.

“The sea it like violent tonight, didn’t?” said a woman who stood up to walk away with a man.

“Yes,” said the man.

Our man glanced at them as they walked away like ducks for they were very fat.

“The sea is blue,” the artist said, thoughtfully.

Our man looked at the sea anew.

“Yes,” said our man, sadly, “the sea is blue.”

© Copyright 2018 John Arnall. All rights reserved.

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