The Bay And The Souls

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story of two souls with toughts and desires. Two souls at the bay, both with the ability to watch in the windows of the soul. A story of longed love and drifting spirits.

Submitted: November 22, 2012

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Submitted: November 22, 2012





Damn it! He slipped away, again. The fish seemed to mock me for my stubbornness, but I insisted that I would not come home empty handed. I never really got any fish in my life, only when friends and elders help me. But I consider it not as a victory. I was getting tired of friends mocking me for my fishing skills and intended to wipe off their face with a nice big salmon. I was sitting alone in a bench at the bay, while sitting in the twilight hoping for something that seems impossible. The bay was quiet with sparrows still singing from time to time, the thought of time and space it didn’t really mattered. I was determined to get something big on the rod.

My soul was in floating in some void but still concuss enough to hear foot step behind me. I did not panic, but it was quite unusual for people to come to the bay at that time. I turned slowly around to see who the visitor was. It was a girl.

She was wearing a yellow summer dress and she was just a knot pale, and her hair was reddish as the corn fields. She looked like in the same age as me and her walk reminded me of a three legged cat. She came and sat with me at the bench. And there were no words traded, just to souls starring at the water that reflected the cold blue sea. Then she opened her lips and looked at me, she then spoke. She asked if I was getting any fish, I was sitting there for a brief second.

Her voice was like an angel’s song, and the mellow face of hers made me drift in fascination. I replied gently with a smile. No, it’s properly because I fished it all yesterday. I said with a humorous attitude. She smiled wide and laughed shortly.

I started to see that she was freezing, I offered her my jacket but she asked instead, if she could rather sit close to me. Surely you can, I answer well mannered.

She moved herself closer and sat close enough for me to feel the cold from her. But ironically I felt warmer, the heat came from her heart. She looked pathetic and sick, but every time I got a glimpse of her eyes I saw love and pain. Those big green eyes that have gone through hell but still had hope, I felt a tear come from my left eye. She then leaned her head at my shoulder, but was interrupted by a harsh cough from her. She proceeded to look me deep in the eyes. In a moment, we were one. We didn’t spoke a word but we saw what we needed to see in each other’s eyes

There were two lost souls sitting at the bench, a bird with a broken wing and a three legged cat. Both have a story to tell but no time was spared for that. We both had a desire and a muse we wanted to fulfill, and this seemed the time to do it.

I putted my fishing rod down and took a deep breath, while my sight of the water made my mind empty. Still she lay on my shoulder tired and drifting away with the water and wind. I felt something for her, something that could be told with any words or description. She opens up her lips again and told me. That she used to sit right here with a boy that she shared her youth with, but one day he was gone. No message or any call, he just left. On the midnight summers they used to lay down on the grass counting stars, there were no words traded either. They both exchanged the same things as she and I did now, a feeling of humble compassion. She told me I reminded her of him

She spoke with voice of fatigue and a heart that is stitch loosely, and not very far from falling apart again. Her words were slowly coming out and keeping it straight was not an easy task when those eyes made you float away from reality. Eyes that reflected everything she had, eyes that only a few people had in their disposal.

I don’t recall any time where two strange souls could engage on the closest intimacy, some would call it love. But it was clearly just the most important and strongest side of love yet the weakest of man, humbleness. A search for the good that we shield from the world, defenses we want to take down.

I felt for touching her pale skin that was clean as snow, stroking my fingers through her face with beautiful apple cheeks. I stroked her reddish hair when she started again to cough even harsher. My worry for her health was increasing, I asked if I should take her home. There was no need for that she replied, life just too short for worries.


Time passed by while we did nothing then watching the water, it was a moment of harmony. The things that seem irrelevant were the biggest desires we had, we lived them that day and made it unremarkable. When are you planning to leave? I asked curiously. I don’t know, does it even matter? Perhaps when you finally get any fish? She replied tired but with a smile. Well, you probably have to be here a while then. I answered amusingly with a smile as well. No problem at all, she responded.

We were still reading each other’s eyes while we talked, telling each other things that word couldn't simply be told through words. But through the windows of the soul.

© Copyright 2019 Chris Kozelek. All rights reserved.

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