The Beach ( part III )

If you want to, you can catch up on or reread parts one and two of The Beach before you tune in here for the final installment. If not, read on.

"STALKER!" I was three seconds away from running out from under the cover of the pier and flagging down the Beach police. But something stopped me; and it wasn't my dread of facing my parents behind bars. Why? Why was this cute--outside of the shadows I could see the definition of his sharp features and his flashing, grey eyes-- somewhat funny, older guy waiting at the Beach to talk to me?

"What do you want with me?" I was far enough away that I would have a good headstart and while screaming my head off I was sure that I could attract the Beach police.

He was much closer by this time. "I'm here to offer you one wish."

I didnt' say anything. He's joking. He waited for my response. He's not joking. He must be crazy.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you," I said and then turned and ran down the Beach towards the police. I was hoping to throw him off gaurd, but he pounced at me before I had run a dozen steps. It would have been a gentle tackle by most standards if I hadn't ended up stretched facedown with a mouth full of sand.

"Get off of me! HELP! Get. Off. Me." I wasn't scared anymore. I was seriously annoyed. I bucked him off and flipped onto my back glaring.

"Sorry Nilly, but you shouldn't go running around like that. People are going to think you're crazy."

My jaw dropped. Either he was a hardcore stalker or this Nate-guy knew me, because no one had called me Nilly in about 7 years.

He could read the shock clear on my face and Nate grinned, "It's me. Natty."

Natty was my only friend growing up. We would play almost every afternoon together until I turned six, when my mom remarried and we moved away. Mom would ask me questions about Natty, like where were his parents, what did they do for work or where did he live or was he in the room with us at that moment. 

Natty was my imaginary friend. Or at least that's what my mom had thought. Over the years he had faded enough that I thought she might be right.

I looked closely at the guy sitting across from me. I ran my tongue over my gritty teeth as I tried to process. Impossible. "Natty?" I spat sand. "How do I know that you're him. Besides, you're not real. I mean he's not real."

Still with that same strangely familiar grin on his face, Natty--Nate--reached over and poked my side. "You're favorite animal is a seadragon. You love to read comic books. And you stole a tootsie roll from the corner store on Irving Park."

I squirmed and fought hard not to squeal when he poked me. "You said you wouldn't tell anyone."

"It's not secret-breaking if you remind the person who told you in the first place, silly Nilly." He hooked his pinkie finger with mine and pressed his thumb to my thumb. Our secret-keeper promise shake.

"Don't call me that. I'm not a little girl anymore." I yanked my hand away from his and jumped up from the ground, brushing sand from my jeans. "Besides, we're not friends like that anymore. You left me." I whispered the last part more to myself. I knew it was illogical, since I was the one who'd moved away.

A firefly flew in between us trailing light like a small fairy.

"I'm here now."

"So what? Is that supposed to make everything all better? Natty, you can't change the way things are, with me or my life." The tide was drawing the further onto the shore. I slid a few steps back.

"That's what the wish is for. You can have anything you want. A happier family. Your independence. That castle we talked about building." He scuffed sand at me. What an annoying boy. 

"I'd need more than just one wish," I said wistfully. "Besides, aren't there limitations to that sort of thing? And what happens afterwards; you disappear again?"

This time he kicked water towards me. Ick. "Here." He reached into his pocket and threw a crumpled paper at me. I picked it up and unscrunched it. 'I hereby grant the carrier of this paper 1 wish,' it read. Natty shifted from one foot to the other. "Use it when you need it. But for now can we do something fun? Before the trash men wake up."

Huh? I looked towards the parking lot. From my angle on the shore I could see the parking lot more clearly. The headlights belonged to a garbage truck not a police car. And the vehicle hadn't moved from its spot the entire time Natty and I had been talking. Odd. The Beach was a magical place. Being with Natty here felt right. More peaceful than I had felt in a long time. Maybe tonight I can play pretend one more time.

Another light flickered nearby. I smiled. "I bet I can catch more lightning bugs then you can." I challenged Natty, already lunging towards the glimmer.

"Ha! You're on."

Page and the lion II

 

Blazer/Shoes: Thrifted, Shirt: Gap (Thrifted), Jeans: Walmart, Belt: Nordstrom Rack, Earrings: Etsy

Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I have a long list of things I am grateful for; my job, school, my body, my brain. The last two days the weather has been very mild. I expect to take more advantage of the sunshine by going on walks and soaking up some vitamin D over the next few days. During the between walks parts of my day I am going to bake and read and watch movies and snuggle and cook and clean (but not too much) and generally enjoy the "good life" with my love Nick.

I asked him this morning, as we slept in, if he thought Thanksgiving break would always be the wonderful holiday it has been for us these past two years or if it would wind up being me awake at 6 to put the turkey in the oven. He said no, so I am writing this as documentation that if one of us, in some distant future life of ours, needs to get up and begin cooking, it's not going to be me. :) 

Anyway, I hope you are tucked in a warm house, whether or not the weather is as lovely as mine. This is the part two of three of Page and the Lion. This is dedicated to my little sister Grace. We're a lot alike; especially in terms of books and writing.

Tell me what you think. Does it kill you that there are parts or does it feel too long for a short story? 

Page made no effort to conceal the room behind her when she opened the door. Looking the

person over critically who stood in her doorway, Page said “I suppose you’d better come in too.”

The man appeared as surprised as Anthony had been. Looking at the girl before him the man

hemmed and hawed, “Uh, well . . . perhaps I have the wrong address. What did you say your

name was?”

“I didn’t,” she said smiling. “But it’s Page. And I think, judging by your outfit, that you have

found the right apartment. So do come in.” Page opened the wooden door, scraped on the outside

and gold filigreed on the other.

The man was dressed in a khaki outdoors suit with tall black boots and a whip coiled at his hip.

This must have been his formal wear because everyone knows that lion tamers wear bright-

colored tank-tops and striped pants. With a bald head and a thick black mustache that curled at

the ends, it was right away obvious that he was a lion tamer, even if he wasn’t properly dressed.

It became even more obvious when, after looking around the spacious living room, his eyes

narrowed when they rested on the lion. “Tony!” he shouted. Most people would have just

shouted “Lion!” and then run away. Instead, the lion tamer stepped inside the doorway.

“Yes, yes, Tony, as you call him is here. But please come all the way in and stop shouting. I

don’t want my neighbors to wonder what’s going on,” said Page.

“What is my lion doing here? You have stolen him!” roared the lion tamer.

“Of course I have not,” Page replied calmly. “And as for what Sir Anthony is doing here, he was

just about to answer that question when you interrupted, but since you probably have your own

side to this story, you may sit quietly until he is finished and then I will hear you as well.” This

was said with such noble bearing that Anthony nodded in what I assumed was approval.

“Well, I never –” started the lion tamer.

“Quite so,” Anthony cut him off. “As I was saying, I was kidnapped as a young cub by Porticus

here,” he motioned toward the lion tamer with his nose.

“Kidnapped you, did I?” thundered Porticus.

“Well, what would you call it?” asked Anthony.

“You asked to come with me! Wanted to visit my world, you told me.” Porticus was pacing

the length of the living room, gesturing wildly. (It was no wonder he was in the entertainment

business; he was very entertaining to watch when he was angry.)

“Yes, visit. Not stay for ten years and never see my family again and play at being a ferocious

lion forever!” These last words were roared back by Anthony.

“Well, why didn’t you just tell me you wanted to go back?” Porticus asked.

“ I tried, but you never listened. You were too worried that you would have to go back to being ‘Tic the stable-cleaner’ instead of ‘Porticus the Lion Tamer.’ Besides, it’s not like you could send me back even if you wanted to.”

Wednesday Words

Some of you have commented about The Beach, a short story I shared, and when I'm going to post part two. Today is the day! A lot of the above pictures were taken at the "beach" where I live now. This lowercase beach is nothing like the sandy one I grew up with, but still very beautiful.

For those of you tuning in now you can read the first part here. And yes there will be a part three; coming soon.

I hope you like it. 

As I got close to the shore and stared out at the endless-seeming body of water a voice said, "Hey!" 

I yelped and whipped around. 

The Beach had closed at 11. Who the heck was this guy? Beach police? Oh well, I was too far away from the entrance by then. The Beach is one of the only places I didn't run. I could be still there. 

"Hey, you," the voice sounded again. This time I could see a dark figure near the pier relaxed against the sand. Definitely not Beach police. Probably just some homeless guy, although his voice sounded a little younger than your average hobo.

"Hey what?" I responded back. Who did this guy think he was? Like I didn't have problems enough without some bum trying to scam on me. Why else would he be talking to me?

"Could you move a little to your left, you're blocking my view," he said.

I turned around, the lake as big as an ocean stretching behind me with the full moon hanging over it like a single-orbed chandelier. Granted I wasn't the skinniest girl, but how could I block all that? He couldn't see me raise my eyebrow, "Whatever."

I drifted further down the stretch of sand. I wasn't going to let him or anyone for that matter make me leave my Beach. Not that I can go home right now anyway. I concetrated on the horizon not wanting to think about home. Lost in my non-thoughts I stared at the water lapping the shore, creeping closer to me.  I ignored him so well that I had almost forgotten he was there.

"Uh... you might want to move," my vagrant called out.

"Oh yeah? Am I obstructing your view again?"

I could hear him shifting in the sand but I didn't turn around to see what he was doing. "Nope, but those guys over there look like Beach police, and I think they throw you in jail for trespassing here. Or at least call your parents and have them come pick you up."

The last part of his warning caught my attention. I looked towards the parking lot and sure enough there was a vehicle with it's lights beaming, driving onto the sand. "Aww crap." They were a ways away, but soon their headlights would spot me. 

I considered going into the water, but number one, I hated being wet, number two, I was wearing my shoes and number three, I really hated being wet. I glanced up at the pier. It was the only place I could hide; the rest of the Beach and lake was flat all the way to the horizon. I crept towards the wooden overhang, trying, unsuccessfully, to blend in with the bleached sand.

"What are you doing out here tonight?" 

Ugh. I jumped and then turned around. That guy had snuck up behind me and was lounging against a pillar three feet away. Now that I could see him up close he looked even younger than I had originally suspected. Maybe seventeen. His hair was a non-descript color in the shadows and a little long. He was wearing a grayish t-shirt and jeans. He still could be a hobo. 

"What?" I asked belatedly.

"It's kind of late for you to be out, Nila." He stared steadily at me even through the darkness under the pier. And he was smiling. Nice teeth.

"That's none of your business," I said. Why do people think that just because I'm young-- 

"How do you know my name, you creeper!" I backed away from him, hearing the sound of tires on sand behind me. 

"Who the heck are you?!" I didn't care about his answer, that was just the second question that came to my mind. I kept my eyes on him just in case he tried anything and continued to back up.

"I'm Nate. Nila, I'm here because of you. The view is nice and everything but do you really think that I would be waiting here under this pier, in the middle of the night, unless I knew you would be here tonight?" He stood to his full height; a few inches taller than my own 5' 9".  And began walking towards me.