He is Ted. He walks barefoot and leaves gaping maws in the sand. His shirt is bent outward to the right, at the waistline. His pants have creases, sharp creases. Enough to cut lead crystals. He sits on the coast of the beach.
He pours Magna Mystique into a wineglass; the stem and foot, sunk in the sand.
He watches as the red liquor crumples into the wine glass, crushes onto the bottom bowl, and swirls about the inside, in a riffle of bubbles. The beach water laps gently. Then wildly, as the wind blows south-west, toward him.
He is Ted.
He stands, then walks south-east, leaving gaping maws in the sand.
He sits on the cusp of the beach water. The wind and waves push water toward the coast. He feels the water roll softly to his toes, enough to make him curl them. He watches as the water streams along the coast, then forms a rip current, and rolls back to the beach water.
He coughs, then rakes his fingers through his black, curly, sparse hair. He dies two years later on the same beach.
Post image by John Garghan via Flickr. Check out more of his work HERE.
About the Author:
Ezebuike Temple is a writer, and a fourth year Law student in the University of Nigeria, Nsukka – where he also edits “UNEC Parrot”, the school’s Enugu campus newspaper. He likes Music – preferably Soft rock, which he listens to everyday of the week, and two times on Sunday. He is always interested in open-air or athletic sports, and keeps his affiliation to FC Barcelona silent, not saying it for spells as long as 5 or 7 minutes. His works have been published in various Nigerian Dailies, such as; Guardian, Blueprint, Punch, P.M News, Sunday Trust, et c. And online platforms including; Real Stories Gallery, YNaija, 4-traders, among others.
COMMENTS ( 2 ) -
Gabriel Doc Nwodo February 05, 2015 04:26
Picturesque. Vivid. Me likey.
Morgan February 04, 2015 12:55
this is too lovely