A Day at the BeachA Story by bharrisNon-fiction.I
went down to the beach today. I had been drinking since morning and was
now in a state, I was dressed head to toe in black, wearing a heavy
jacket to ward off the wind and large, superfluous reflective glasses in the overcast light of winter. The beach was full of people in
shorts and t-shirts, a man walked his dog, an old woman fed the
seagulls and old couples sat in the benches, enjoying each others
company. A group of young, shirtless Maori boys were singing in the
changing rooms, audible from the exterior, even through my headphones
blaring 'So Glad' by David Lynch. I lit up a cigarette and observed the sailboats crossing the
bay, I glanced over at the man walking his dog along the beach, he was
staring at me. I became self-conscious due to what I was wearing and
that I was drunk and smoking at a beach in midday surrounded by people
vastly older than me. Feeling profoundly unwelcome I decided to go home, I walked back along the beach and stopped just along from an elderly Chinese woman spreading pieces of bread for the birds to eat. A car of the Maori boys from earlier drove along the road that runs parallel to the beach behind me, the driver stopped behind me and asked if I had weed, I held my cigarette up to them, hoping they would get the message I had none and leave me alone. I finished my cigarette and stamped it out on the edge of a public rubbish bin and dropped it in, wondering as I usually did if perhaps this time it would start a garbage fire. I started walking back to my house, realizing that I was living in a neighborhood occupied by either the elderly or middle-aged couples with children. The old idiom 'you are not welcome here ' filled my head and I felt unwanted by the community I was in and alone as I've never felt.
I went home and poured myself another drink, I smoked some more on my porch and walked down my backyard to the stagnant creek that runs down the side of my house, leading into the ocean. I smoked while staring into the murky grey water, occasionally flicking ash
into it. I finished my cigarette and went back inside my house and
drank, wishing I was somewhere, or someone else. Somewhere I was
accepted, or someone who was accepted. © 2017 bharrisAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on June 7, 2017 Last Updated on June 7, 2017 Tags: non-fiction, prose, short story AuthorbharrisAuckland, Northland, New ZealandAboutI am an 18 year old living in New Zealand. more..Writing
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