Beyond the Dark Blue

A short story

Beyond the dark blue ran a deep purple that bled into a thin white spilling out looking like puddles of blood. Silence. A shadow tiptoed over the puddles and left large tracks that disappeared after the rain. Yes, it poured that day. Poured like water from a faucet on the hill behind the small white cottage on the edge of a Mediterranean sea. Everywhere else it was dry. Dry like salt. Another shadow slipped out the front door of the house and slid down to the sea. Sliding out of nothing, its blackness slid down to the water and then into the water where it faded into the water.

The two shadows knew each other from yesterday, but today they were strangers going in opposite directions. One was headed for the town of two palm trees and a bucket of water. The other was headed for an island of one beach and a small coconut tree. A monkey beckoned the water shadow to come up out of the water and sit on the sand. The black shadow slid silently over the low tide and lay quietly by the monkey. The monkey tried desperately to caress the shadow, to make friends, to have a conversation, to make a connection, to tickle, to snuggle, to kiss, but the shadow slipped away about two yards. The monkey, in frustration, bit the shadow. The monkey with a mouthful of sand ran off to hide in the coconut tree and weep until the sun went down.

Ciao!

Catalina

Cathleen and Chris!

"For is not music a language? And of what is it the language? Is it not the language of the dream world, the world beyond thought?" Robertson Davies, The Lyre of Orpheus