Seaside Adventure


The beach was nearly deserted. The still hot sand was tickling the soles of his feet, hasting his pace. The stray followed him quietly at but a step away.
He neared the shoreline, taking in a strong breath of humid and salty air. Mesmerized by the unending of the sea, he lay upon the warm sand, meditating.
Feeling the cool breeze, reaching him from afar, across the sky. His little companion sat at his feet with his ears saggy from the heat and his tongue sticking out, ignorant to the beauties of nature.
In love couples strolled the cliff, taken by the wild sunset. Its pale rays sparkled happily in the foamy waves the broke against the glittering sand.
Feeling the urge to come back to society he took a deep breath, coming back from the euphoric mood he had fallen in. The dog jumped up from it’s feet, ready for the road.
Vlad looked insatiably the eerie dance of the seagulls. Their squall tore through his thoughts but, shrugging his bare shoulders without care, he thought of an remote place capable of offering him shelter.
In the heat, hundreds of tourists swarmed around the pints of beer like bears around honey.
His face was covered with sweat and his hands and feet itched from the nocturnal attack of the thousands of mosquitoes he had fed the night before.
He lit up a cigarette, dipping his feet in the warm water. The bottom of the sea was firm, pleasant to the touch of his warm feet. He arrogantly watched the multitude of naked bodies that indulged themselves on the hot sand and grumbled something.
And he felt spite.
The stray sniffed the warm air cosing up to his feet. Then it let out a long howl, letting him know that it’s hunger had became unbearable.
He was hungry also.
Suddenly, his arrogance was gone. He was but a make-believe man boy.
A lot of crowded restaurants, from which music and loud voices could be heard, were spread along the beach. The day passed slowly and the hot sun forced the tourists to try the chill of the sea more and more often.
The smell of barbequed meat tickled his nostrils, foretelling an intestinal war as he hadn’t experienced in a while.
He gazed at the beach , looking for an appropriate place and he got his guitar ready.
The solo concert that he offered the world every time the hunger would strive made him a happy man.
He sang his own lyrics on the chords of old, famous songs. His lyrics made an impression on the people that stopped to listen to him. His voice was strong and imposing.
He played two songs and then stopped to see the reaction of the people that gathered around him.
Then followed a few moments of silence.
-Good work!, a female voice was heard.
The artist didn’t even flinch. The woman walked towards him. She looked deep into his eyes and then touched his lips with her fingertips.
-You have a wonderful voice, the woman said, and her lips touched the man’s red cheek.
Applause broke the heavy silence and the poet bowed his head.
The people seemed impressed with the young artist’s show. Banknotes started falling around him.
The woman started crawling on her knees, picking up the money while the poet stared terrified at her. Then she suddenly got up and, taking his arm, shoved the notes in his hand.
The crowd had scattered.
He lit a cigarette, bitterly smiling. He was perfectly aware of the negative effect his lifestyle had on his nerves. He wondered how he could overcome this state of being.
He rushed into the nearest phone booth and began to hastily tell his stories of the seaside adventure.
-Your stories give me a headache, I said laughing.
His face expression changed and from his green eyes gave birth to a couple of tears salty as the sea water.