Tuesday 7 February 2017

Lost at Sea

For audio click here
The sand felt cold and clammy beneath Angela’s toes. The waves weren’t reaching the spot she was standing anymore, but the water oozed out of the sand every time she moved her foot. She watched the rain clatter off the sea, water on water violence. Her cagoule had long stopped being waterproof and she could feel her sodden clothes sticking to her skin. She sniffed hard and wiped her nose with her soaked sleeve. The horizon had never felt so close, the cliffs behind her lost in the clouds. Her world reduced to this lonely beach. The sea continued its retreat, each wave crashing millimetres shorter than the last, until one brave one broke ranks and tried to tickle Angela’s feet, just failing in its mission. 
She loved the sea like this; grey and angry beneath the tormented skies. Who needed a tranquil blue sea with tiny breakers on golden sand, nothing to see there. This was nature at its finest, in its raw-power glory. But she hated the sea like this too; it was her nemesis. All her life they had battled over the same men and the sea had been an angry jealous lover. Her father, her husband, her son, her lover, each had fallen for its charms and had been blind to its dangers. Each had deserted her, recklessly running to its arms, before coming back and swearing never to go again. Only to give in to temptation at the next opportunity. But she won eventually, she counted them out and counted them back in again, except that was, for one. 
He was out there somewhere. Lost at sea they’d said. Missing presumed drowned. She’d read it in the local paper. Frozen to the spot as she read the report. A report which spoke of his grieving widow and his children left without a father, but failed to mention the lover whose life had been torn apart. She mourned him, as she had fucked him; passionately, all-consuming, and completely privately. Just as no one had known the satisfaction he had given her, no one knew the pain that overwhelmed her. No one had noticed the spring in her step, so no one saw the stone in her shoe.  
He was out there somewhere. She stared into the greyness, looking for clues. She listened to the waves, listened to the gulls, listened to the rain, listened to the foghorn. But none of them spoke to her, none of them told her the secret that they’d kept for nearly thirty years. 

6 comments:

  1. Very beautiful piece. I love the mood you created, the atmosphere of longing for someone, the feeling of love that was probably doomed from the start, the description of the sea and sky. Your character reminded me of John Fowles' Sarah Woodruff of Lyme Regis. She also gazes continually at the sea, waiting for the sailor who seduced her to return. This is one of my favourite books. And I absolutely love your story.

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    1. Thank you, high raise indeed.

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    2. I forgot to add I like the recording too - the rhythm you give to the sentences and the voice modulations as you refer to the four senses in your descriptions (including your famous husky voice). OMG seems I have exhausted the limit of compliments for this week already. Will better shut up or you will become so vain:-D

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  2. Great story, although it's very sad...

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    1. thank you :-) we need sad ones sometimes :-)

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  3. Very nice, even if its sad though.

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