Un-named characters, out of context, just a rambling piece that occurred to me as I walked along the sea wall last night. You often hear advice like ‘needs to get out more.’ If a simple stroll produces thoughts like this, perhaps I need to get out less.
Incoming waves were dancing and prancing like circus ponies strutting their stuff in the Big Top. Grey, tipped with white foam, pounding endlessly at the sea wall. Plumes of spray rose from each assault as successive rows of waves rushed headlong towards the shore like packs of wild dogs attacking a defenceless flock of sheep. The mighty wall of water crashed against the sandstone barrier and retreated to re-gather their forces and swoop forward once again.
A dull boom signalled the arrival of a particularly large wave, which spilled over the lip of the sea wall and merged into a seething shallow pool spilling over the promenade and into the gutter alongside the road where she lay.
The roar of the pounding sea assaulted the ears making conversation impossible, but he’d no intention of speaking. Actions speak louder than words. He drew back a booted foot and kicked her again, twice more and then walked away.
She heard his car move away, clamping her teeth together, trying desperately to stop them chattering, until her jaw ached with the strain. A stabbing pain over her eyes made her want to moan aloud, but she kept her jaw tightly clenched.
She had to hold herself together or she would be lost.
Her breath came as a series of tormented gasps, her pulse raced producing a relentless pounding in her ears as blood raced through the veins and arteries of her head.
What she felt was way beyond fear. She’d been afraid before and this present situation was a whole new experience. She was terrified. An incorporeal sound broke the silence; surely not human. She heard the sound again and belatedly realised it came from her own lips. Her hands fluttered like a trembling captive bird.
From her prone position, the dark stain on the road looked like a giraffe running. She turned her head to the left, but a wave of pain hit her and made her cry out.
When she looked at the stain on the floor again, she couldn’t make out the shape of the giraffe any more. It just wasn’t there because the stain was spreading.
That meant she was still losing blood and that wasn’t good.
Not good at all.
