The Conch Shell

[Huey]

Another piece of writing I did a while back. It was just sitting in my closet collecting dust. I took the time to rewrite and re-edit so I can share it with you all. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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The Conch Shell


The restless ocean licked at the shore, forever trying to get on land, but never gaining much. A beach sat undisturbed, seldom visited because of the numerous rocks that littered the sands. The ground yielded no footprints, nor any signs of human activities in the recent past. But there was an intruder. His feet dragged along the sands as he made his way across the barren landscape. He was in his late fifties, with two clusters of gray hair above his ears. Numerous lines streaked his feature like a scoreboard. His eyes looked ahead, looking but not really seeing. His mind was somewhere far away, somewhere among the past that was taken from him.

The old man stopped to catch his breath. Where was it? He couldn't remember. It had been so long since he came to this desolate part of the world. He glanced about, trying to put his present view with the ones from his past, trying to mark the exact spot where he had made the trade five years ago.

On the ground before him, half buried under the sand was a conch shell. He stooped to pick it up, found the act too painful and plopped himself beside it. The shell was the size of his hand, curvy and hollow, with spikes protruding near the opening. He dug it out and brushed the sand off.

The shell felt light. The old man turned it around in his hands, admiring Nature's handiwork. He placed the shell next to his ear but heard only a low hum. Where is your owner? Why would he abandon such a beautiful home? Now it is just part of the scenery, silent as the rocks and as lifeless.

A hand placed itself on his shoulder. The old man turned his head in surprise and found his friend behind him. He was dressed in black, from his cowboy hat down to his leather boots. His eyes were narrow slits, two horizontal lines carved above chiseled cheeks. A long scarf hung motionless down to his knees, despite the sudden wind that blew in from the ocean. The old man stood up.

"So there you are," said the old man. "I thought I would never see you again."

"How have you been, old man?" The man spoke in whispers, his lips barely moving.

"Bad, my friend. Bad. Full of regrets and dried up tears," the old man replied.

"How is your son? That accident was unfortunate." The man in black said indifferently, a monotonous flow of whispers joining the hollow wind.

"You've been watching me."

"I see all, my friend. What have you come here for?"

The old man looked away as he spoke, not bearing to look into those hard eyes any longer. "I want them back. All of it."

"A deal is a deal, old friend. You can't have them back."

"Yes. I know. But still, I need them!"

"They are nothing. Having them back won't do you any good."

The old man turned to look at the man in black to make his point clear. "I need them! I can't even remember what she looked like."

"I thought I was helping you. I am helping you. Don't you remember the state you were in when you first came to see me?"

The old man grimaced. He remembered, slightly, of the pain.

"Time has changed you, my friend," said the man in black. "You will not survive with them back in your head."

"I think I can, now. It's been so long. Too long."

"What are they, anyway? They are only intangible objects that are of no use to anyone. Believe me, you are better off without them."

"After that day, I couldn't find my place. At first it was good and I was happy ... content, for a while. But everything since had been so confusing, so distorted."

"You are not dealing with it the right way, like I told you. Why didn't you forget about me, old man?"

"That's one thing I couldn't forget."

"Remember how you pleaded me to rid you of them? Remember how hurt you were and how much you wanted them out of your life?"

"No."

"Listen to me old man." The whispers grew louder, into a hissing tone. "Forget the past and live with the present!"

"I can't! I can't!" The old man shook his head, his eyes started to swell with tears. "Give them back to me!"

The man in black let out a long sigh. "Your life seemed to me not worth living anymore, friend."

"Can I just have them back, please?"

"Do you remember the deal we made?"

The old man was silent.

"You can have the ones I took back, but you'll need to trade them with something else."

The old man wiped his eyes on his sleeves. He inhaled a deep breath and spoke slowly, "No. I don't want to lose anymore. I am not myself without a past."

The man in black saw the determination in the old man's face.

"Here's the deal, old man. You can trade them with other memories, or you can trade them with your life! What would it be?"

"Don't you feel sorry for this old man?"

"That's the deal, take it or leave it!"

The old man looked down at his feet, the sound of waves now aware to him. He looked back into his life, what's left of it, and made his decision.

"If I can't have them all back, then I can't go on living. I see now that I'd made a mistake."

The slits flickered. "And so have I."

"Take whatever you want from me, except my memories. There's nothing else I treasure."

The was a brief pause. Then the man in black clenched his jaws.

"So be it."

The man turned and walked away, quickly disappearing into the night. The old man watched until he was alone once more. He faced the ocean and looked as far as he could see.

The moon had once again returned to her hiding place. A stretch of waves crashed at his feet. As the ocean withdrew his memories came rushing back at him. They filled every corner of his mind, engulfing him with joy and pain and all the lost feelings he had forgotten. He was no longer empty. He cried, then laughed through the tears as his mind flickered from one vision to another, his heart ignited with mixed emotions, a different feeling for every beat of his heart.

He saw his wife on the couch, smiling as she slept. He saw her laughing, saw her dancing as she swept the floor. She sang all the time, in showers, in bed, while she was cleaning the house. He remembered her voice, like a stream through a forest. He remembered her face, the dimples on her face, her little nose.

Then he remembered how she died. It was his fault, he had broken her heart. The waves of guilt flooded him, drowning him in a sea of anguish. I killed her! I did it! I killed her!

"Kill me now, Collector!" he screamed. "Kill me now or I'll do it myself!"

A cold, chilling wind suddenly circled the old man, whipping the sands around his feet. He fell to the ground, on his knees, letting out a cry. His lung gasped its last breath, his heart beat its last beat, and the waves drew back into the ocean.

As quickly as it came, the wind died. The sands settled to find the old man motionless on the beach, now half buried. Beside him was the conch shell, glinting off the pale light of the moon. It is a hollow shell, part of the scenery, silent as the rocks and as lifeless. Once, it had an owner. Now it lay discarded and useless, strong on the outside but empty within. Eventually, it will be covered by sand, leaving no traces of its existence. The ocean lapped at the shore, waves upon waves into the silent night.

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[The Ktulu]

Whoa. That was...I don't know what to say about that, but it was good. I also grinned at the "man in black"

I'm going to trust that you did a good job with the grammar and whatnot. Screw nitpicking it for now...

[Martin_levi3935]

I liked it but I was well weird and fricken cool at the same time. It kinda had meaning but at the same time it did not. But I interpret very different than normal people.

[Buzzsaw]

I like it but frankly it's a bit too long for a sig. You could get banned if DP sees this.

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"Time is the fire in which we keep warm for the rest of our lives."

[The Ktulu]