TEMPTATION
Which way is the wind blowing? A question ingrained in my being.
Today, disassociated, an offshore breeze transports me to a familiar location, one evoking the early stages of a long, arduous journey.
High on a dune, I’ve a view of a beach that’s deserted bar some children constructing an imposing sandcastle. The group’s elders supervise the build, while the youngest members ferry buckets of damp sand excavated from along the shoreline. They’re enjoying a warm summer’s day, but one among them flounders. An annual migrant to these shores, he’s his playmate’s cousin, and shares everything with me, but my age; and even on a clear day, a cloud shadows his every waking hour. Mirroring my own, it further signals the constant struggle and disappointment etched on his young face—the result of never measuring up to the expectations of someone who should care.
A fantasy for some, but for me, everyday life. Changing perspective, I look out to sea, toward the horizon, and listen to the wave’s calming melody. But there’s no escape. A sudden screech anchors me to the past as a hysteria of seagulls circle above, their libretto echoing my distress. I wonder do they mock me, as they, like me, cry, but shed no tears.
“Let’s finish this, once and for all?” I scream, but the wind steals my anguish. Never mind. I’m prepared. I’ve chosen a vantage point, hunkered down among the thickets of marram grass that crown each dune. The sun rides high in the sky, directly behind me, a shield as I lie spread-eagled against the sand’s wind-etched contours, mapping every grain.
I’m a sniper and you’re in my sights. Steadying myself, finger hovering over the trigger, I gently apply pressure, but not yet enough to reach a point of no return. Tracking your every movement. Don’t rush, I tell myself. Wait. This has to be a clean kill, for both of our sakes—it’s the least you deserve.
You suddenly freeze, looking in my direction. Have you discovered me, witnessed a brief flash of what lies ahead? Your expression remains clueless and gives little away. Casting a line, you’re fishing in the dark, but I’m a wily old trout, and a life bruised by disappointment has taught me not to rise to your bait. Positioned deep among the margins, in the shadows of things yet to come, part of me aches to see you take cover, but this would only prolong our misery.
This needs to be painless. For both of our sakes. My one-and-only gift to you, one of eternal youth. A single carefully aimed shot, and milliseconds later, an explosive vortex of salvation, will rescue you from a journey of despair that leads you back to this place. Fail, and my misfortune becomes your legacy, and you’ll inherit a far-reaching decision. Only I can save you from the torment.
We’ve never spoken, but let me ask you; I’m tempted. In my shoes, would you be too?
Today, disassociated, an offshore breeze transports me to a familiar location, one evoking the early stages of a long, arduous journey.
High on a dune, I’ve a view of a beach that’s deserted bar some children constructing an imposing sandcastle. The group’s elders supervise the build, while the youngest members ferry buckets of damp sand excavated from along the shoreline. They’re enjoying a warm summer’s day, but one among them flounders. An annual migrant to these shores, he’s his playmate’s cousin, and shares everything with me, but my age; and even on a clear day, a cloud shadows his every waking hour. Mirroring my own, it further signals the constant struggle and disappointment etched on his young face—the result of never measuring up to the expectations of someone who should care.
A fantasy for some, but for me, everyday life. Changing perspective, I look out to sea, toward the horizon, and listen to the wave’s calming melody. But there’s no escape. A sudden screech anchors me to the past as a hysteria of seagulls circle above, their libretto echoing my distress. I wonder do they mock me, as they, like me, cry, but shed no tears.
“Let’s finish this, once and for all?” I scream, but the wind steals my anguish. Never mind. I’m prepared. I’ve chosen a vantage point, hunkered down among the thickets of marram grass that crown each dune. The sun rides high in the sky, directly behind me, a shield as I lie spread-eagled against the sand’s wind-etched contours, mapping every grain.
I’m a sniper and you’re in my sights. Steadying myself, finger hovering over the trigger, I gently apply pressure, but not yet enough to reach a point of no return. Tracking your every movement. Don’t rush, I tell myself. Wait. This has to be a clean kill, for both of our sakes—it’s the least you deserve.
You suddenly freeze, looking in my direction. Have you discovered me, witnessed a brief flash of what lies ahead? Your expression remains clueless and gives little away. Casting a line, you’re fishing in the dark, but I’m a wily old trout, and a life bruised by disappointment has taught me not to rise to your bait. Positioned deep among the margins, in the shadows of things yet to come, part of me aches to see you take cover, but this would only prolong our misery.
This needs to be painless. For both of our sakes. My one-and-only gift to you, one of eternal youth. A single carefully aimed shot, and milliseconds later, an explosive vortex of salvation, will rescue you from a journey of despair that leads you back to this place. Fail, and my misfortune becomes your legacy, and you’ll inherit a far-reaching decision. Only I can save you from the torment.
We’ve never spoken, but let me ask you; I’m tempted. In my shoes, would you be too?
