Waking On Falcon Beach

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man wakes on a beach, to the thoughts of the past and the innocence that betrays, to a horrifying secret.

Submitted: September 05, 2007

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Submitted: September 05, 2007



Waking on Falcon Beach


I wait and watch as the crimson rays spill over the yet untouched sand of Falcon beach.  The miniscule grains in a myriad of colours and textures move with ease as the light breaths of air sweep it to one side.  I can't help feeling this is beautiful, she would love this.  It wasn't long ago that I toiled in this sand with the sun blazing on my back and the world moving on around me like everything was fine and life wasn't slipping away. With peeled open eyes, she and I knew better.  We could see the misery and impending problems that had reared their heads and taunted us on the way to this magnificent strand.  Slowly the sun was starting to dribble across the waiting water, filling the gaps left by the absence of stars which I have watched and kept company all night.  She loves to sit and watch them too.  In a way she still is.  She had kept her eyes open all the time through the violation and the scrambling of clothes and limbs.  She was silent but secretly I knew she relished being ravished one more time.  She had this far away look in her glazed eyes that seemed to be looking to the horizon, willing the stars to fall down to her side so she could fashion a bracelet for all to see.


Splinters from the sun are streaming through the scattered clouds as it produces forth its full and radiant presence.  She loves this time of day.  I am happy she can stay on Falcon Beach and be one with the grains which mirror the number of stars and the waves.  A little ways down the strand, there is a hollowed patch.  Fresh sand spread across it and her name spelled out in white smooth seashells.  She loves white shells.  The water is lapping at the beach, the seaweed mingling with the shore teasing it and then cruelly being snatched out to sea again.  She will be one with the waves from her sandy pit.  She is cheekily winking as I placed a long lingering kiss on her salty lips, blood red fuelled with sexual tension and motionless perfection.  Her hair is shielding her blinded eye against the glare of the moon which cut a peculiar arc of light on her alabaster complexion.  Taking her unyielding stare and framing it against the navy onslaught of the night sky where it may have played a trick on my eyes.  She loves the night sky.  It reminds her of an expansive ocean, looming down over civilisation bringing with it wisdom and beauty.


My neck aches from the weight of her body as she plunges majestically into the hollowed out sand trap that I have neatly and lovingly lined with leaves.  Dry leaves because she hates the way the sodden ones can cling to her otherwise flawless skin.  She has a self satisfied smile on her lips and I know she loves the final moments of her transgression from life to a celestial being.  She has begun the path to joining the stars and at last being able to show the world her heavenly beauty.  She loves being called that, beautiful.


The powerful and brilliant ball of fire in the blue sky is fully risen now and in the distance I can see fish jump out of the water and back into the icy depths. I wonder if they are bringing her little pockets of air in the hopes of reviving her to life.  The life she so desperately wanted to come to an end, even though she held her silence.  Even as she slipped from my arms, crimson rivulets marching down her stunning white face, I knew then she was grateful for the release. Even as she struggled and tried to scream as I loomed over her with that "I am your saviour" look in my tired eyes, she never fooled me.


I ponder this thought and think of how many others would wake on this very strand and come to the same awe inspiring end to a tedious, yet fulfilling journey.  I can almost see the sand part as the souls of the ones I have set free rise to thank me.  I sit and listen to the melodious sounds of the spirits lament, like strains form my own private concerto.I can hear the sirens in the distance.They are like relentless children, pushing on through the streets, not knowing of my tranquil hideaway.  One day they will locate me, they will come to take me away and punish me for giving her the freedom to rise with the waves and set with the sun in harmony with the rest of the heavenly orchestra I have set together.  Their music is my lullaby and they lull me back to my slumber.  I dream of the torrid, raging ocean; the sound of the waves lapping at my subconscious.  Their salty fingers teasing me out into the spray with them.  To forever be a part of the sand and the stars.  Spend every glorious day privileged to wake on Falcon beach.

They all love that.

© Copyright 2018 Myke 247. All rights reserved.

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