Off the pier

A cautionary tale of delusion.

He walked along the path enveloped in thought. To his right he could see the grey sea made so by the incessant overcast whose beach, unlike those from sunnier lands which seem to call out in welcoming, was devoid of life and instead seemed to shout "Do not disturb me". Since the path appeared to naturally go towards the beach, he decided to continue to walk there in spite of the fact that it looked like the last place one would think of for a relaxing nature walk. Factories in the distance spouted great white chemical puffs, reaching up to the sky as if trying to become one with the clouds, heavenreaching tendrils. A light drizzle began to fall. No sand moved in the cool wind.

The path promptly ended upon coming to the sand dunes. The beachgrass swayed in the wind. The man began to walk up the dune, careful to keep his footing in the easily dislodged dusty sand. A put-out bonfire was the only indication that anyone had ever been in this area. He came over the brow of the dune and stood at the apex, overlooking the barren flatland sparsely decorated with rocks and driftwood.

As he stepped onto the beach his head filled with thoughts of loneliness and times long gone. The sand beneath his shoes was as hard and compact as rock and made no squelch or movement under his inelegant steps. He looked along the ground to look for seashells but none could be found. With so little to do, and even less beauty to observe that one would expect to be typical of a beach, his mind began to work and thoughts began to develop.

That quote about taking man as he is versus what he could be sprung to his mind and so he decided he would take the cold dead beach as the type experienced in his years passed. The hoary grey water became the most astounding tropical turquoise, the compact brown sand became yellow and fluffy, the sparse greenery along the sand dunes behind became great palm trees, the grey mass of clouds gave way to a bright and benevolent sun, the absence of sound became filled with the shrieks of seagulls and pelicans and hundreds of joyous people now populating the beach playing volleyball and keepitup and digging holes and dogs yip-yapping and children building sandcastles precariously close to the water in the hope that a great wave materialises and fells their fortress. The fog of misery clouding his mind began to lift as he allowed himself to be taken in by his delusion.

Elation flooded his consciousness as all prior feelings of despair and loneliness departed. Groups of people called out to him, inviting him to play various games. Girls locked eyes and immediately shyly looked away, blushing. He felt himself to be the king of the beach, the king of the new world, and could not possibly suppress the grin forming on his face. He then commenced laughing- a joyous, manic laugh which to an outsider may have seemed more like one of a man whose situation has become so bad he cannot help but laugh as opposed to a man who is happy.

A pier nearby caught his eye and he began to walk towards it. In the corner of his eye he saw two dogs fighting, a cocker spaniel and a beagle. Drops of blood began to gather on the sand and he thought he heard the cheering of a crowd but he looked away and paid it no mind and continued towards the pier.

Trying to suppress a thought or memory is no easy task, and so it is no surprise that little attention was being paid by the man as to where exactly he was walking. He felt a resistance to his foot and looked down, promptly realising he had trodden on the sandcastle of a child. He quickly noticed the child, who began to cry. As if appearing out of thin air, another man, presumably the child's father, began to shout. "What the hell is wrong with you? He's a child! Why are you-" He began to run, unable to face the child's father and sorely missing the paradise of which he was the king just moments ago. The bonfires seemed to burn a dark red, those crowds of people who were shouting and laughing were now screaming, no, one person was screaming surrounded by a crowd and he thought the cries sounded akin to his own.

He reached the pier sweating despite the cool coastal air. When he was about halfway along, he stopped, panting, to take a rest from running. Looking over into the blue water he saw dolphins, swimming, playing, when a band of sharks arrived and began tearing into them. He turned away from the mess of gore colouring the water a scarlet red and looked towards the sky. He thought thoughts of self pity and loathing, as well as a distinct feeling of being unable to do anything correctly. He heard shouting behind him, and turned to see the group of people who had encircled the poor screaming man marching excitedly towards him. He looked towards the beach and could make out in the distance the body of a man eviscerate upon the sand. Terror overwhelmed him and he began running from the crowd. They too began running after the man like hunting dogs let loose upon a deer. The man reached the end of the pier and turned to see the bloodthirsty mob now almost close enough to grab him and he could see only one way out of the situation.

Off the pier he jumped, and upon hitting the surface of the water he was met with an icy cold chill that reverberated throughout his body. The wall in his mind separating fantasy from reality begun to show cracks, and it crumbled and in its crumbling it brought forth a great cascade of water which pervaded all of the mans senses until he felt only cold and he thought himself prone to burst and suddenly he could think no more.