Lunderston Bay

During the many lazy nights down at Lunderston Bay, numb from Father's drugs, I noticed her beauty from a gang of comparably shabby girls. I knew everytime they glanced over it was to examine some weirdo they thought was stalking them and that was fine. I lacked the confidence to approach her anyway.

At a later stage I swapped mind poisoning for creative angst. Spontaneous trips were now accompanied by the mighty pen. I'd leave the beach littered with a frustrated trail of crumpled paper. Coherent, I could almost describe her devastating beauty. She was formed to swan-like perfection; sharp cheekbones and a small narrow shaped nose complete with green (or grey) eyes formed her gorgeous face. She was frightfully taller than I, enviably slim with tumbling locks of maroon hair.

Her increasing stares were, like mine, decidedly not of lust. She looked like she wanted to know a passing stranger. From a distance we flirted, giving birth to the dazzling smile people kindly credit me with. We conversed silently. I’d look down to my piece of paper, then out to the sea. The pieces of paper left bore random, but thoughtful, scribbles. I hoped she would come across them and upgrade her whim.

Thinking back, I think she - nothing but a harmless stranger at the time - might have inspired me to stop polluting my head. So stunning was this unexpected discovery, I needed a clear head to appreciate it.

Then, the night I left childhood behind happened. I found myself ripped from one dimension and placed in another. So consumed by shock, anything going on in my life occurred right under my nose. I'd go to Lunderston Bay with a heavy heart and bleeding soul. Sometimes severely drunk and on the brink of serving myself to the ocean.

She was there too, that night.

I debated whether she would be able to notice the circles of red around my eyes in this darkness, deciding against looking in her direction anyway. Tonight I really was here to clear my head. Somehow, through the internal gulf tearing me from the inside, I could feel her inquisitive stare on my shoulders. And when she finally took an easy stride in my direction, all of the hurt creeped back into their hiding places.

"I'm Anna."

She said it with such poise it might have just sounded like honour.

Mine was a slurred reply.

"Hmm," she questioned through pursed lips. A look of latent disappointment struck her.
I asked if there was a problem, and she tilted her head aside to remove the hair in her face, before replying: "It's a nice name, don't get me wrong, it's just not a typical one for..."

"A weirdo?" I interjected.
She fixed a nervous smile. "I was going to say mysterious."
"I suppose if I noticed a loner occasionally staring at me every time we suspiciously wound up in the same place, weirdo would be at the top of my list."
"You weren't the only one staring."
"Well, I wasn't looking at your ugly friends."
"Brutally honest as well, I see."
"Nice to meet you."

We compromised to disregard the unique premise of first meeting and sit together through the night. Inward troubles dissipate like water foams. She was quick witted and deeply conversational, more intelligent than coquettish and strong-minded when the question of life arises. Her voice was eloquent and when she says something meaningful it was like a sincere melancholic purr stroking my ears. A couple of hours passed and I completely forgotten what pain ever was.

"So, your motivation for being down here all the time?" She asked me.
"I don't do drugs. You?"
She flicked her bothersome hair. "Fucked up sleep levels," she drawled.
"Insomnia. My favourite."
Her eyes cast a curious spell. "Your scenario?"
"This fucking town and its misery."
"That deciphers those things you've been writing."

My heart (drunkenly) sings. And the darkness hides my beam.

"I should probably be home facing them."
"Ah, I see. Asshole family," she sighed, and immediately she is my kindred spirit.
"Just one asshole," I grumbled quietly.
"When was the last time you got some sleep?" She asked me.
"I can't remember."
She bit her lower lip, studying me cautiously. "Want'a come home with me?"

She was like a siren beckoning me to her sea. She flicked her hair again. "Perhaps you can be my tonic for awhile. We can sleep all day."

And that moment when I took her hand, I honestly didn't think I'd ever look back.

For a long time, I didn't.