Saturday, 27 June 2015
'The Beach at Night' by Javier delBarco-Trillo
I’m just a boy, that’s the simple truth. Most nights I wander on the beach and I am the only one. I kneel by an overturned boat. I dig by its side until there is enough space for me to crawl inside, in there. The darkness is much more intense than outside, but I still hear the sea lapping on the beach. It smells like being inside a sea urchin (I just know such things). A monster taps on my shoulder, I can hear the tentacles flapping on the sides of the boat, prospecting. Also scraping noises, possibly hard, beaky, parrot-like mouths trying to chew the innards of the boat. I get out and walk to another boat; I dig again and crawl underneath the boat. Maybe this time I will sit on the sand, in the fishy darkness, and my father will hug me.