The Beach

Flash fiction story inspired by The Cure's "Killing and Arab", as well as Albert Camus' "The Stranger"

The bright glowing sphere dimmed, as it slipped vertically down the horizon. Its surreptitious decent seemed ominous. Inside its mind, I could see the presence of an eminent despair, as if its future were riddled with uncertainty. The present was now fading away to a past that never was.

Slowly, the cool blue water enveloped the warm sun as it finally cascaded over the Pacific, rising in Calcutta, leaving California, and its past, behind. The waves crashed, and as the blue water faded, it was transformed into an onyx sea. As the waves swelled, the moon rose, its brightness lit by the diminished light of the sun, and its borrowed light began to dance upon the waves like fairy dust.

I stood on the desolate beach, staring down at my only companion on this forbidden evening. His lips were parted slightly, as if there was a final word caught between his teeth; a word that would never be heard. His dark, ebony eyes lacked their normal vibrancy, and their dullness nearly infuriated me, but I took no pity on his wasted life. His death would be a great comfort to me.

I began to roll his cold, inanimate body closer to the shore. Its stiffness provided more resistance than I had expected. Grains of sand embedded themselves into every crevasse of his body, and the sand slowly began to cover his irritatingly dead eyes, easing my feeling for them somewhat. Still, pushing his dead weight was just about as aggravating.

His name was Ismael, a name I would never forget. I am certain that a typical person would have questions, would scream and cry, show a violent display of passion, but that was not my nature. Ismael and I were similar only in that way. I am not sure if it was a lack of conscience, but I knew I would not lose sleep over his death. But, technically I wasn't killing him. That wouldn't have been as much fun.

Finally, the murderous tides rose enough that my efforts were eased. Wading out into the icy sea, I shoved his body out farther, until the cold water swallowed him completely. I watched as the black waves crashed again and again, enjoying their delicious meal.

I reached into my pocket and extracted my last gift to my liquid friend. I threw the empty syringe, once filled with Vercuronium bromide, into the ocean. Walking back to the beach, I could feel my lips curling into a slight smile.

I couldn't help being reminded of Camus and Meursault's own beach adventure. I knew that the blistering heat of the sun was of no consequence to me, but wondered if our fates were to be played out in the same way. This was no accident, yet remorse was not quite the feeling my savage deeds gave me. Pleasure may seem a cruel word, and a sense of accomplishment may be a better fit, but ultimately is was contentment that I felt.

As if on cue, rain flooded the December sky, and I couldn't have felt more alive. My task was complete, and my chest was no longer heavy with burden. Maybe one day he'll find my sister in the openness of the unforgiving sea. I hoped it would show him the same mercy he never gave her. He was not given the chance to utter his final thoughts, but I am sure they were ones of regret.

Author's Note

I have polished this and rewritten it many times. I have also had it peer edited, and had good reviews, but I am looking for fresh opinions.

Reviews

[Bex Bries]

What inspired you to write this? I loved it!

[Colene Pefley]

Thank you so much! It was inspired by the book "The Stranger" by Albert Camus. That book was also the inspiration of a song called, "Killing An Arab" by my favorite band, The Cure. The beginning was just something that I wrote while watching a sunset, and it wasn't until later that I used it to actually make a story.

[Bex Bries]

It went completely the opposite way of what I thought, haha! It was very captivating!