Blah. Not quite what I was hoping for:

The edge of the world
By Neil Beynon

They say reality is thin here on the edge of the world, on the frontier of the empire. Perhaps that’s what’s happening. Or maybe I’m just finally losing my mind.

She stands, feet casting faint patterns in the sand, staring out to sea at the emerald eye framed in the dark finger of witches point, her fire hair glowing in the mid-afternoon, mid-winter sun. It’s been twenty years since. Yet her skin is still the colour of milk, her lips a smooth natural pink you can almost taste. Her big brown, long lashed, love lashed eyes drinking in the crashing ocean.

It is a perfect moment.

My chest hurts. It aches a lot these days, too many scars. The air smells faintly of salt, wind whips the back of my neck, the damp beach beneath my bare feet is cold and wet. It sucks on my feet like the over eager, inexperienced lover I once was, making my steps tripsy and awkward as I move towards her.

Perhaps she hears?

She turns to look at me but either does not see me or does not recognise me, hardly surprising really. Time’s intemperate kiss has left her mark on my eyes, her bitter sweet breath sent most of my hair to the wind and gluttony, the bastard, has made me soft.

“Hullo,” I say

“Hullo,” she answers.

“You don’t remember me?” I ask.

“Of course I remember you,” she replies. “I could hardly forget you.”

Of course not, foolish idea.

She steps in close, so near to me I can feel her breath on my beard, her fingers dance over my chest. I’m not sure where my armour went, or my sword, now that I come to think of it but I don’t really care. All I want is to kiss that soft neck.

She leans in. I can’t believe this is happening.

“Look behind you,” she whispers. Her voice is like a hand ghosting its way down my spine. I turn.

My armour lies sandy, dented, discarded, forlorn on the beach. My sword notched, stained, sinking slowly towards the brine. How did it get there? How did I get here? I reach for her; to ask is all, I swear.

She is gone.

Reality is thin on the edge of the world, the dead like to watch the waves pound the shore like anyone else. You can gaze into the past if you look long enough. But you can never go back.

Never.

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