Sunset Boulevard

first draft of something I pulled out of thin air, first thing i've actually written in a while.

The sea was made of dark blue glass and every wave shattered along the shore, more quietly than you would have expected. It was a quiet rush, a quiet tinkling, an omnipresent percussion of white noise. It was good for meditative walks.

Isaiah kicked a piece of bottle out of the way, careful about where he placed every step. Shells, glass, rocks, and slimy plants from the lake's depths littered the shoreline and it was a minefield of sorts.

He had been hiding too much. Lately, it seemed, all he did was shuffle around in the background. Quickly, slowly, slinking, running. Go around to the back, hide in this room, pull the car around the block real quick. It was taking its toll. That was why he had come here: he could be alone here, and not have to hide.

Night was coming, though, and the lakeshore closed at sunset. The rangers would be out soon after that, and if Isaiah wanted more time breathing in the damp air that somehow smelled rotten and fresh, he would have to hide again. Whatever, he thought, with a mental sigh and a physical kick at a rotting log.

Sometimes he wanted to break away from the background; he had always stayed there by choice, but now it felt like he was vermin behind a wall. But he stayed there nonetheless. He didn't want to rush things and he didn't want to lose the game of cat-and-mouse.

Sunset came and went: the navy glass of the lake became obsidian and Isaiah started back to his car, started to a house that wasn't his, and after that, started to a storage facility that was.