As the tsunami hurdled towards me at full speed, determination came over my skin and sunk to the bones of my skeletal structure and I felt inclined to stand my ground. My feet sank through the earth beneath me and my thoughts soared high as eagles in the early hours of the morning. I thought of the days when I felt a desire to save things apart from myself. Her body lay contorted, twisted, on the shore of the ocean with waves crashing like semi-trucks. My eyes follow the line of white foam formed by the salt of the water, bubbling on the beige sand. The sky felt ominous above and my heart beat rapidly as voices spoke out in hushed whispers yet felt like mandates in my head.
"Leave her! We have to go. There's no time and they'll be here soon," they said, but I could not pry my eyes away from the lifeless body on the sand beside me. And so I stood my ground, confused to why I was seeing these things, hearing these voices. And I felt panic rise in my chest like the sun over the horizon, a bright orange glow casting rays over this vast expanse. Am I dreaming? Where am I at? I think to myself. I try to speak, but my vocal chords have been stolen and only my lips move. Where is the sound and who is that girl? Questions ramble around in my head and I've not the aptitude to do a thing.
My chest feels heavy and my head floods with their shouts over the wind at the ocean's edge as the clouds move closer. My hands shake in desperation as her body will not be properly taken care of; she will be left to rot at the hands of an immense element yet even the people who've left her have not the humanity to save her, to lift her from the ground and place her delicate body into a nicely built coffin.
"Wake up! Its morning and the suns out of view, but there's news to be told!" I hear booming out to me from somewhere I can't locate. My eyes twitch and I tremble, still planted to the floor. Suddenly the surface softens, slowly becoming warmer and warmer. I've broken out into sweats and I feel as though I'm being coaxed into a cocoon aching to be awoken.
"Brone! Get out of bed!" says a voice far off yet itching to be heard. I twist like a pretzel, my limbs stiff with weight; I feel paralyzed from the waist down. I feel fabrics pin me down like nurses in the hospitals yet I fight the restraints and soon my eyes shoot open the way storm doors do, all hinges and wind. Abruptly, I sit up in bed, my spine straightening out as cold sweats erupt over my body. Droplets dribble down my temples. I swipe them away with my hand. I've been dreaming.
I look to my body, seeing the sheets wrapped around my legs before I hear the same demanding voice yelling, "Brone, there's coffee in the pot so wake up cause we're snowed in!" It's my dad. Great. He's up early only on the days I'm incapable and on the days when we really can't go anywhere. I look to the window above my bed and sure enough, snow, even more so than before, cloaks the ground like an angel's blanket. Frost lines the edges of my window and the sun can barely be made out in the grey sky. The sight makes me think of the dream my mind comprised of an incessant, clouded sky and lapping waves. Untangling my legs from the sheets, I stand up and scramble into the kitchen for a cup of coffee before remembering my lack of pants or shirt. Coincidentally, Jade sits comfortably at the kitchen table, a grin creeping over her face like a masked villain. I laugh in spite of myself.
"Well, it's nice to know someone else's up and ready," she tells me, turning the other way as her cheeks turn pink. I shake my head before going back to change into more proper attire: sweats and a shirt. Perfect winter weather clothing. As I come back down the hall, I see that she and my father have made a cozy space in the living room. I frown. My mind immediately thinks of the coffee; I go to it. "Sunshine's finally up. Thought you might want to hear the news this morning," Dad tells me, his eyes glued to the screen, hands fumbling to find the remote. Whatever it is can't be that important if it's not even on the TV anymore. "Before you woke up, they were talking about that other body in Barrett. They seemed quite ecstatic even though the news was actually depressing." He sips the black coffee lingering in his mug. My father and closest friend get along better than I do with them. How unsurprising. I meet them in the living room after making myself a cup.
YOU ARE READING
Story of A Lonely Guy
Mystery / ThrillerA girl. It only takes one for Brone’s life to go ripping at the seams, down the line of stitches like it was never strong enough to uphold life, let alone his. She takes wrong turns and he’s led right back to her. But she was never the one he wanted...
