He looked at the sea, his eyes lifeless, and thought about his story. His story... it was too painful to tell. But he would tell it. He gulped in the air and began to speak.
He gulped in the air
He looked at the sea
his eyes lifeless
and thought about his story. His story... it was too painful to tell.
But he would tell it.
He gulped in the air and began to speak.
"Snoik wrote:
He looked at the sea, his eyes lifeless, and thought about his story. His story... it was too painful to tell. But he would tell it. He gulped in the air and began to speak.
Snoink wrote:He looked at the sea, his eyes lifeless, and thought about his story. His story... it was too painful to tell. But he would tell it. He gulped in the air and began to speak.
He looked at the sea, the roaring see where the seagulls soared in sultry figure eight formations, casting shadows over the rocks where the waves battered the shore. His eyes scoured the horizon but they seemed to be looking beyond it; beyond the horizon of the sea, beyond the horizon of time and into his past, a story almost too painful to tell. But he would tell it, he had to for the weight of those unspoken words has grown too heavy for him to bear.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the salty air and began to speak.
I nudged him with the end of my pistol to move closer to the edge of the cliff.
He said, “Just wait minute, will ya!,” to which I replied, “Yer runnin outta time old man. I’m through playin games. Either be out with it, or you can kiss them rocks down there.”
He turned toward me and said, “I’ll tell ya, I jus…”
He looked out at the roaring sea, the first rays of sunlight were beginning to creep across the horizon.
He turned to me again and said, “can I at least have a smoke? Jus gimme a smoke and I’ll tell ya everything.”
If it was any other day and any other guy, I would’ve put one between his eyes and let the poor bastard fall down to the sea floor. But what can I say, I got a soft spot for those old timers. It always seems like they know something the rest of us don’t. I sighed and took a step back.
Pointing my gun at him I said, “One smoke, and you better spill yer guts. Got it?”
The Geezer nodded his head. I pulled my pack of smokes out of my shirt pocket and held them out to him. He took one and I pulled my lighter out and lit it for him. He took a puff and looked out at the sea again. He was searching; for what, I’ll never know. Maybe he was looking into his past, a story I would soon find that was almost too painful to tell. His eyes were wrinkled from a lifetime of restlessness, but they still had some life in them, I swear they did.
He put the cigarette to his lips once more, inhaled the thick smoke and began to speak.
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