Darkness would be approaching soon. On this particular autumn afternoon, the last rays of sun were gently warming; while the sand was cool to the man’s feet. Finn’s paws felt the cool sand too, though he was busy trying his best to stay dry while stalking seagulls close to the water.
The man had decided to start the fire inside this evening. So, along the beach, he was picking suitable pieces of driftwood. He had felt the cold last night, straight to his bones, especially since he had a proclivity to leave the windows open both day and night. The coastal breeze was pleasant most preceding nights.
With a substantial collection of wood under his arm, he approached the sea and the wet sand, and he stood knee deep in the water, watching and listening to the waves further out.
Almost hypnotised, the man’s concrete vision focused on the crashing waves, becoming more violent, more vigorous, as the sun descended. He saw the world slipping away into a black pit of nothingness.
What if I just went in and let it all sweep me under and away? The man thought. He broke his stare and turned to look up the beach, leading to the light house. He could see Bonnie running towards him and waving. She was wearing that warm green jumper she loved so much.
The man waved back.
‘Come on, Finn,’ he called to his cat. ‘Let’s go back in.’
Inside, he closed up all of the windows, fed the trio of cats early and proceeded to light the fire from his beach collection. The man grew frustrated with the driftwood not burning particularly well. Maybe it’s not dry enough, he thought. He poured himself a glass of whisky, took a deep gulp, and went out to the back veranda to grab the two timber chairs which had been there unused for years. He broke them apart with ease, and he thought it a good thing that he never actually got around to sitting on them, they would have collapsed.
The parts were thrown into the fireplace and the flames adapted to them gladly. The man, lightly pleased with his combusting success, poured himself another glass and sat back in his armchair.
He sat and watched the fire, as the cats made a slow parade one by one into the living room, in front of the glowing warmth so they could wash up. With every window around the house now shut, the man wasn’t appreciating the crackling fire as he should have been. There was a pervading silence where the sounds of the waves and flapping curtains used to be…
It was time for some tunes…
He placed his glass up on the mantel and went to select an album from the collection. The records were separated into two groups. The bulk of them were to the right, but a specific selection was placed on the left side, these were the ones he and Bonnie were most fond of together. These were the records they so often listened to at the end of their week, enjoying the music and each other’s company, and talking into the early hours of the morning.
The man remembered Bonnie’s enthusiasm for finding old records neither of them had heard before, so they could listen to them together in the evenings. He recalled the Friday evening she brought home ‘Roy Orbison Sings Lonely and Blue’. She had seen the album cover in a bookstore window on her walk back to her car after work.
The old man who owned the shop was just locking up. He was on the street side of his door and turning the key when a lady with a fifty-dollar note confronted him.
‘I don’t know what price you’re asking for that record there,’ Bonnie said. ‘But this fifty here is yours if I can have it.’
The old man didn’t say a word. He simply sighed and grumbled, re-opened the door, grabbed the record from the front window display, and traded for Bonnie’s fifty. She couldn’t wait to listen to it when she got home. They loved it, together, and it spun on the turntable three times that night, start to finish.
The man crouched low to see the album names, found the thin spine of the ‘Lonely and Blue’ LP and slipped it out of its cover. He switched on the amplifier and speakers, set the turntable going with the record on the platter, and hovered the needle over the start of Bonnie’s absolute favourite track ‘Blue Avenue’.
Thanks for reading Slipping Into Fiction and the second part of my short story ‘Seasons in the Abyss’. Part three of this story is on the horizon… Maybe in the meantime, listen to a little Roy Orbison.
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