He walked along the beach front, the evening sunset casting a bright glow along the water. He walked along the harbour, the book in his hand as he searched for a place to lie down and read.
It was a quiet evening, the air calm and fresh, not too hot, not too cold. Being the summer, there was always the possibility of it staying muggy and hot into the night, but tonight it was simply warm, with a slight briskness that let you know it was now the later stages of summer and no longer June or July.
He passed people along the way, couples holding hands, families with young children. All enjoying each other’s’ company. Yet here he was completely alone, no one to hold hands with, no family to enjoy the company of.
He wondered what it was like to not be alone, to have people to turn to other than yourself. It was a strange thought. He couldn’t comprehend how it would feel.
He didn’t mind being alone. It was peaceful, there were no worries, and he didn’t have to count on anyone else. Yet there were times when he thought it would be nice to be in the accompaniment of others. It would make him feel more alive, like he was a part of something more, something better. It was almost like he ceased to exist otherwise. No one noticed him. He was just another person out of many that walked the earth.
He continued along the path, walking just by the edge of the sand, until finally he found a nice secluded space where he could sit down. He stopped and then placed the book beneath his arm before removing his shoes and socks. He then placed the socks inside his shoes and carried them as he walked forward.
As he walked forward, edging closer to the ocean and to the spot, he felt the sand beneath his feet as he strode ahead, his feet pressing their way deep into the beach floor, the grains of sand scattering around him with every step.
Finally he reached the spot by an old log and placed the shoes down by the ground. Five feet further was the water, appearing in front of him ominously yet inviting, as if challenging him to enter the depths. He did find it strange how a body of water could be so large and vast, how easily it could suck you up and never let go.
Without another thought, he sat back against the log, pulled out the book, removed the bookmark from the page and began to read. He began to read slowly, carefully, meticulously, approaching each page with increased concentration, each word on the page with as much significance as the last.
He followed the pages, reading for a few minutes, casting a glance up every so often to enjoy the setting; the calmness of the water, the aroma of fish and chips, the sounds of seagulls bellowing around him.
Coming to the beach to read had become somewhat of a routine for him. He liked to read, and he didn’t so much mind the isolation. No one bothered him and he bothered no one. It was simple. Yet, there were times when he wished he had someone to share such experiences with, someone who would enjoy the same routine as much as him. Of course there was no such person.
No one paid him much thought out here. He was like just another person out of millions.
He turned back to the book and continued scanning the pages effortlessly, his eyes following the lines with ease. Yet for whatever reason, he felt unable to comprehend what he had read. His mind was elsewhere. Sighing, he gave up and flipped back to the original page, placing the bookmark where it had been.
He placed the book down and walked forward to the water. Looking down, he dipped his toes in the ocean, feeling the cold as it rippled through his toes. He stepped back, his feet returning to the warm sand. He looked ahead at the vastness of the ocean, how it went on and on as if unending.
It was at that moment that the feelings of loneliness reappeared. Looking at the large body of water made him feel even more alone. It made him realize how large the world was, how vast everything around him was. Yet here he was contemplating it all. In isolation.
Shaking away the thoughts, he bent down and scanned the sand for stones until he found a right one; one that was flat. After a moment, he found a flat shaped stone and, stepping back, he swung his arm in a sidearm motion, flinging the stone against the water. The stone bounced along the surface of the water three times before falling into the depths never to resurface.
He enjoyed skipping stones. It freed his mind from all his anguish and also removed any tension he was feeling.
Again he bent down and searched for another stone, before finding one and skipping it along the water again; this time only the one bounce.
He continued the process over and over, finding stones, skipping them along the water. Each time he skipped a stone it was like he was destroying a part of his anger, his hurt, his sadness. He would throw the stones with such velocity and venom that it wasn’t even about counting the number of skips, but rather how much he could pierce the water, and ultimately his own pain.
It was the equivalent to thrashing a punching bag, taking out all the feelings and anger against the bag with as much anger and ferocity as possible.
As he continued the process of skipping stones, soon a little boy approached the water next to him, watching him carefully. Yet he paid the boy no attention, continuing to attack the water with stones.
After a few minutes, the boy’s mother called and he hurried away back the way he came. Still he continued to throw the stones, with the same intensity as the first time, the sky slowly getting darker and darker as the day was coming to an end, the night slowly taking over the shift. He didn’t care. He was on a mission now. He felt addicted by the release.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity he ceased, his mouth foaming, his mind exhausted from it all, his arm sore. He felt tired, yet he felt free. All the stones he had tossed made him feel better.
He scanned the horizon, noticing now a few ripples in the ocean. He squinted and noticed a few heads bob up from beneath the surface. Seals. That’s what they were. Three or four of them all together, swimming together. They drifted calmly through the water bobbing up and down.
After a couple minutes they swam away and dipped beneath the surface, disappearing as if they had never been there.
As he stood there watching the calm ocean, as the final moments of the sun’s presence came to an end, a sudden thought came to him.
He wondered if there was someone out there, across the body of water, with the same thoughts, the same feelings. He wondered if his stones had been able to reach the other side, if they had been able to reach the hands of another person. Was he able to share this moment with a stranger?
He knew it was unlikely, yet he couldn’t help but wonder. What if there was someone across the water who felt the same way and who was also tossing stones? It wasn’t impossible. There were so many people in the world.
He sighed. Reality was beginning to return. Even if there was someone across the water, he would never meet them. He would be alone. It was inevitable that he stay that way. For how long, he wasn’t sure.
Without another thought, he picked up his shoes and his book and turned back to the walkway, trying to turn away the thoughts. Yet the tears fell from his eyes. Not a downpour, but a few tears trickled down his cheeks.
As he walked away, the last of the sun finally fell beneath the mountains removing the warmth and brightness, the darkness now taking over.
