Thursday, April 26, 2012

Island 2/2

A short story cont'd:

Soon there was a pile of rocks from the man’s net on the shore. “One fish,” he tossed another rock on the beach, “just one fish.”

Then he tossed the net into the sea one last time. The water, which had parted, suddenly crashed in on him and the sea turned tumultuous. “I’ve got one! A fish! A fish!” The storm suddenly descended upon us and it rained in sheets. Drops of water fell on the sand, sending text flying into the air. Lightning struck just beyond the pier and the man was barely visible. I stood up to watch him.

“A fish! A fish!” It was all he could say. And the waters rose as he struggled against the sea. The once calm waves drove into the shore sending up large letters and words. The text from the waves was much bigger than the sandy text between my hands; huge gnarled strings of letters that sparked from the collision of water and earth and evaporated into mist.

I worried for the man and headed for the water, but a gust of wind and a sheet of rain pushed me back. I could hear him screaming still, just barely over the howl of the wind. He was still trying to pull in the fish.

And then, no more. The sea was calm again, the storm was in the distance. I gathered myself together, and looked around me. I saw the rocks the man had tossed on the beach and went to them. I picked one up and looked at it carefully. The rock was beautiful. Polished from the action of the ocean, it was colorful and marbled; full of intricate details I had failed to notice before.

I sat down on the beach and suddenly understood. I set the rock down gently and looked down the beach. There were many people in the water, casting their nets out and tossing rocks onto the beach. I watched them for a brief moment then plunged my hand into the sand. I pulled out a bit of line and started tying my own net. And the island felt just a little bit bigger.