This is another little one from the writing class. It’s a continuation of sorts from Kate vs Louise. (You can read that here if you want but you don’t need to though). I switched from the third person to the first person. It’s a little more abstract too! Any feedback welcome. Thanks!
A seagull circled over our heads a number of times before descending and landing next to us.
“Get away from my fish” he squawked at us. We looked at each other.
“Go on… Shoo!” he cawed.
‘Is that a talking seagull?’ Louise asked, disbelief in her tone.
‘Go on! Get out of here you dirty rotten humans. Caw Caw!’ he continued, getting more agitated in his gait.
“It’s an extremely rude talking seagull too…” I replied.
A fish peeped its head out of the water.
“Hey!!… Smelly-ass” he shouted.
The seagull’s attention was drawn away from us, cocking his head towards the fish.
“Ha ha! You looked. How did you know I was calling you? You must have a smelly-poopy-bum!”
The bird shuffled awkwardly into flight, fumbling over himself in his rage. The fish turned and swam with the seagull hot on his heels… (or gills… or fins… or the underwater equivalent to heels…. Tail!… That’s it).
“Squawk, squawk, squawk…. you little fish sh*t…. When I catch you I’m going to gut you like a…”
The fish piddled and paddled and dipped and dived out of the birds reach whilst laughing his little fish ass off.
That excitement faded into the distance and then it was just the two of us on an empty beach.
The beach is the same. It’s the same as any other beach. It’s where the water meets the land. Sometimes they come together and gently caress and kiss and touch and rub each other. But sometimes the water beats the land, engulfs it and engorges it. The seasons change as swiftly and easily as our own human nature. From calm to rage, rage to turmoil, turmoil to mourning, mourning to peace and back again to calm… And now I am rambling.
If Louise could hear me I’m sure she would say something to bring me back to reality. Something like “Will you shut the f*ck up!” or “Stop making mountains out of piles of dog poo! The sea is the sea and the beach is the beach.” Then we would laugh and go and get ice cream.
But there’s nowhere to get ice cream around here. It’s too cold for ice cream anyway. Even if I could get ice cream, I’d have no-one to share it with. I imagined Louise. She doesn’t exist. I imagined the fish. The seagull was real but he doesn’t talk. He’s beside me pulling out of a banana skin. Is the banana skin real? Louise will know. Where did she go?
I look around for Louise and see the fish peeping out of the water again. “You are so crazy…” he says as he splashes at me.
“You’re so crazy that you have to talk to a fish to help you decipher what is real and what is not…. Do you know how crazy that is?”
“But the seagull was busy eating the banana skin.” I replied.
“Kate… Kate… Katie?… Kathleen??? Hello?”
Louise’s urgings signaled my time to return to the real world.
We were on the beach. “What kind of ice cream are you getting?”