One Last Thing
THE AIR WAS BLACK and the sand was cold along the bottoms of Blaine’s bare feet. The thick fog choked his lungs and the freezing water from the Pacific Ocean seized his skin as he collapsed into the thrashing wall of whitewash.
IT was getting closer now, and Blaine could no longer see the purpose of continuing to run. But he ran anyway, or better yet, splashed and yelped and screamed, as he descended deeper into the belly of the heartless ocean.
IT was chasing Blaine fast and hard, but IT didn’t make a sound. Blaine swore he could feel ITs hot, spicy breath upon the nape of his neck. Blaine heard the rumble of a steep wave violently slam its crest into a thin and helpless layer of water. He dove deeper and deeper, until his bare chest scraped the flat shelf of sand along the ocean floor. A thick and forceful wave rolled over Blaine’s back so swiftly, that what felt like a chiropractic adjustment snapped, crackled, and popped its way through Blaine’s ear canals.
Blaine burst through the backside of the wave, flailing his arms in a circular motion, like the world’s most desperate and broken windmill. But IT could swim too, and Blaine could hear IT clawing at the water and ripping the Earth’s most magnificent creation to shreds. IT was breathing even heavier than before, and Blaine sensed its unquenchable hunger — a thirst and a longing that transcended all matter — as it collapsed the distance between itself and Blaine with each stroke of its jagged claws.
Blaine stopped running, stretched out his legs as flat as a couple of ironing boards, took a deep breath, and floated on his back. The white moon was full, causing a rippled white strip to run across the face of the ocean’s black surface.
Blaine let his ears sink into the water, where he could not hear a thing. He held up his hand to IT, palm outward. STOP! IT stopped as commanded, and floated in the water, patiently awaiting Blaine’s next order.
Blaine reached into his back pocket and produced a yellow wrapped stick, with black and white checkers across the front. He ripped open the package, revealing a shiny, white strip of taffy, filled with peanut butter. Just one more Abba Zabba. He took a long, hard bite, ripping off a good sized chunk. The taffy was sugary and sweet, and once Blaine gnawed his way down to the delicious yet nutritious peanut butter center, he knew that he had struck gold.
IT patiently watched, as Blaine chewed away with the sly grin of adolescent guilt spread across his face, while floating on his back under the illumination of the full midnight moon. After allowing the last bite of Abba Zabba to glide down his throat, Blaine took a deep breath, tilted his head up to look squarely at IT, then said in a defiant, booming voice: “Okay, I’m ready now.”
Follow The Endless Blue for more tales from the sea.
Check out J.S. Lender’s new book They Are Here Now (Short Tales).
