Shadowboxer

The sea crashed against the shore, rough after last night’s storm. In the early morning the thundering rain passed and the first blue sky for days emerged. I stood in the sand, then, as the waves landed and pulled me in, the ground shifting beneath my feet, toes plunging inches. A few yards down the shore, the only other man stood atop a dune, lunging forward and hopping back, keeping his arms blocking his face in defense. He danced with the ocean.

No. 162

Companion

The riverbank sloped down to the water. I stood barefoot in the grass, morning dew caressing my feet. Lifting the rod above my head, I loosen my grip and cast the line into the water, sending ripples outward to either bank. A moment of calm—I hold my breath and listen: the cry of a bird, the croak of a frog, the lapping of the water against the bank. A cloud above moves, and the sun illuminates the opposite bank. Across the river, I see them: a pair of yellow eyes in a skull of scaly skin. I leave the line in the water and hold my breath again.

No. 129

Drifter’s Log

June 28: 8am, 64°. Marine layer settled in overnight. Ring of sunlight barely visible in the clouds.

June 29: 1pm, 73°. Nestled on the sand beneath a palm. No breeze. A bead of sweat ran down my temple.

June 30: 9pm, 67°. Draped the blanket around my shoulders. A shiver across my body. Moved the car again.

July 2: 2am, 60°. Awakened to the sound of rain. Looking out the rear window: the arc of a sprinkler’s daughter. This will leave streaks in the dirt, I thought.

No. 113

Asleep

Windows down, the calming sound of ocean waves crashing carried him into sleep. The easterly wind came through the open windows, cooling him, forcing him to pull a blanket up to his chin. Carried along it came the shrieking cry of a mountain lion. He sat up quickly, heart racing, sweat breaking out on his forehead. The follicles on his arms contracted, sending goosebumps down the flesh. Through the rear window he looked out at the mountains, trying to determine the location of the mountain lion. Instead only the stars greeted him.

No. 095

Around

In the hills of Hollywood, public trails run hidden between the winding roads. Along one of them, an abandoned dog collar sat on a rock baking in the sun. Climbing onto the curved road above it, I whipped my head around, expecting to see a car rounding the bend behind me, but it was a phantom noise from vehicles I could not see.

No. 074

Seamount

Some bad news, or a minor inconvenience: start the clock. Ninety seconds.

An earthquake—then, an undersea volcano, jostled from slumber, erupts. Lava deposits, a seamount forms and climbs higher and higher. Eruption after eruption it rises until it breaches the surface of the ocean. An act of creation: an isolated island appears. 

I will find myself alone there in a place that I created. 

No. 030

descension

In the hills of Beachwood Canyon, there are several staircases leading from the city below to the houses above. Descending a set on a rainy day, I found a hidden message written on the steps.

“Not everyone can see

These words are hidden for those with eyes

You are unique”

An auspicious start to the year, I thought, finding them. Then again, any passerby paying attention would notice. But who descends stairs in the rain?

No. 001