Low Tide (standard:other, 2203 words)
Author: Eminescence	Added: Oct 27 2000	Views/Reads: 3591/2242	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A story focusing on a boy who wants to go to the beach...

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Eventually he was there. He looked at the sand. It was darker orange,
with hints of blue. He picked it up in his hand and it didn't fall 
away. He thinks he might have smiled. Something stayed. Usually 
everything fell away. He held on tight. Eventually, after holding on 
for a very long time, he sat down and let go. Some of it still stayed 
stuck to him. He liked it. It could go away but there was always a part 
of it stuck to him. This was the right sand he thought. He likes to 
think, but he doesn't know why. He has lots of time to think in the 
brick boxes. When he can't leave. Not if if he doesn't ask. If he 
leaves without asking... If he leaves without asking, well, if he 
didn't ask... If.. he'd forgotten, so he gave up trying. He always 
seemed to give up trying. It was something to do with the sun shining 
he thinks. But he remembers to think that he could be wrong. 

The sand is still on his hand. It itches a little but he doesn't want to
rub it all off. Part of it wants to stay with him. Part of it wants to 
stay. He wants it to stay too. That's why he doesn't rub it off. This 
was the right sand. He decides to build a Castle. A castle out of sand. 
He thinks he smiled, but he can't be sure. Picking up the sand and 
building a big hill. It was how he started. Build a hill. Buildin a 
hill, buildin a hill, Buildin a hill out of sand. He thinks he sang 
that. If he didn't sing he's forgotten. He's glad he might have though, 
because he wants to remember that he did. It was better to do things 
like that. 

After a little time, he has a big hill. He thinks for a second that it
was bigger than him. Bigger than the whole word and that it came 
alive... and. Then he stopped. He had to stop. It was a lie. It was a 
lie. 'Your not supposed to lie,' they'd said,'never lie.' when he did 
lie, there was shouting and he didn't like the shouting. Sometimes when 
he told the truth they told him it was was a lie. They shouted, he 
didn't like the shouting, and he didn't know why. It was why he was 
never sure. He was never sure because he might be lieing. Even if he 
thought he was telling the truth they might tell him that he was lying. 
So he was never too sure. 

There was a hill now. He wasn't sure what to do next. He looked for a
long time. After, he pushed it a little bit and it changed shape. 
shape. That was what he had to do next. It had to be a certain shape. 
He spent a long time changing the shape. A long time. It was such a 
long time. He wanted it to be perfect. So it would stay. He wanted 
something perfect to stay with him. Part of the sand was on him. It 
stayed. It made him ... it made him... happy he thinks. It stayed. Just 
like he had to do at the brick box. The one where he stayed. He 
couldn't not stay if he didn't ask. If he didn't ask if he could go..if 
he didn't ask.. If he.. He'd forgotten, so he stopped trying. 

After a long time, it was the right shape. It was ready to stay. He
thinks he might have smiled. He sat on the beach for a long time. 
Looking at it. He thought that he wished they had come to see it, but 
he didn't know why. He'd come to build a castle of sand. That was the 
reason. Now he'd built a castle of sand, he'd done what he was supposed 
to do. When you've done everything your supposed to your meant to 
finish. They'd told him that. He couldn't remember why though. He 
didn't care really. But he had done it, so he could finish. He went 
home. It was a nice trip. And when he got there, he went straight to 
bed, straight to sleep. He thinks he might of dreamed. 

It was another morning in June. Just like all the other mornings. The
boy didn't understand much about any of it, he didn't care really. All 
he wanted was to go back to the beach. It wasn't much to ask, and 
because it wasn't much, (he would never get something that was a lot), 
they decided to oblige. But they wouldn't come with him. 'Go to the 
beach,' they said,'but we're not coming.' It wasn't a surprise they 
weren't coming. They never came. He didn't even know who they were. The 
people that controlled things. He only know that if he left without 
asking... well, he only knew that if he left without asking... if he 
left without asking...If...He'd forgotten, so he gave up trying. 

He didn't remember the trip to the beach. He tried to but he didn't. He
thinks maybe it was because of what happened when he got there but he 
isn't sure. It was a blue day, with hints of blue. He thinks it had 
something to do with the sun, but he isn't sure. He got to the beach in 
the end. The wind caressed his face. He got to the dry sand. He kept 
standing still as he went to the wet sand, so it took him a long time. 
The sea was blue, with hints of blue, he remembers because he can paint 
it well. Today he doesn't care about painting though. Eventually he 
get's to the same place he was at before. He thinks he was smiling, but 
he isn't sure. He looked down. But there was nothing there. He kept 
lookin down for a long time. Nothing was there. He thinks he might have 
cared. He thinks something was supposed to be there. It was meant to 
stay. It had something to do with the sand. He thinks he might have 
stood still for a long time. 

He looks at the sea. And at the sand. And at the dry sand. He thinks
water makes thing wet. He doesn't understand too much but he understand 
water. The water makes things wet and this sand is wet. He thinks for a 
long time. Sometimes he is quick, sometimes he is slow. Today he was 
slow. The water is over there, but it is wet over here. The water needs 
to be here to wet the sand. But the water is over there. The water 
moves. It comes here. He was quick for a little while. It comes here 
and washes the sand. The water is big. Bigger than the sand. The water 
washes away the sand. He stops for a long time. It wouldn't stay. It 
fell away. Everything falls away. He thinks water might have moved. He 
feels it in his eye. He looks away but the water is still where it was. 
He doesn't understand the water in his eye. He doesn't understand. 

Everything falls away. That's what he thinks. He doesn't like it.
Something else hurts... like with the shouting. He sits down on the 
sand. He sits down for a long time. Eventually he gets up. He decides 
to go to the brick boxes. The ones that he can't leave. Not unless he 
asks.. If he doesn't ask if he can leave then... well, if he doesn't 
ask if he can leave... if... he'd forgotten, so he gave up trying. He 
decided to go back to the brick boxes. 

It wasn't a nice trip back. There was something wrong. He thinks it
might be something to do with the sun but he isn't sure. At the brick 
boxes, he stopped for a long time. He thinks he might of cried, but he 
isn't sure. He doesn't understand. He cares really. It was an 
interesting day he decided. And he has to do something. Interesting 
days are meant to be remembered. He has to do something. He paints a 
picture. He paints a picture of the sandcastle... in blue. 


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