5 in the afternoon…
After a week of good weather on the island, the prevailing wind turned from warm dry southerlies to westerlies. The wind bringing in large clouds up the channel from the ocean . It rained overnight and in the morning it was much cooler. I walked along the shoreline, the sand still damp from the falling tide, over the rockpools and between the piles of seedweed that the weather had brought onto the shore. Here it was neither land nor sea, you couldn’t make out where the sea began again. If I continued far enough along the shoreline I would get beyond the end of the bay, to the point where i could see the open sea and observe the curvature of the planet. I could see other people walking, though at this time of the day it was surprising how few people there were. There were the remnants of decayed wooden jetties and piers, almost all that remained of the days when this had been a popular holiday resort, blackened wooden uprights with the occasional gull sitting on it, wondering if I was something to eat. Somewhere along the long beach I found some writing, the hieroglyphs were in an unknown language, a message drawn and stamped into the sand waiting for someone who could read it. At the end of script was a single word in english “FLIGHT”. In the distance I could see the white cross ferry that was due into port in half an hour or so. I imagined that I could hear the vibration of its engines as a counterpoint to the silence that people had left behind them. It was five in the afternoon when it began to rain, a thin blanket of wetness that covered the landscape showing the disapproval of the clouds for our presence. I walked back towards the house. We were the only people staying in the hotel when I left, my wife was having tea in the glass covered verandah watching the sentient clouds roll in. When I came down after changing I found that Jan was in the lobby bar welcoming some new guests, with his his his girlfriend Annalise, they were drinking tea, the wall of the bar was full of model ships. Annalise’s father had been a ship captain. She asked me if we wanted some more tea. I said yes, and told her about the writing in the sand. “Flight” I said to her as she brought the tea to us. It’s exactly how I felt out there. And she smiled down at me. “Äh that might be from the woman who lives on the headland, she owns the white house there, one of her names translates in english as Flight.” Jan placed a selection of local biscuits on the table as lightening flashed far out to sea on the horizon. “Ah the storms are beginning…”He looked seriously at me. “When the weather turns like this and the storms return, it’s best to stay indoors. If you go out they might notice and drive you mad.” My wife looked at him with interest. “We’ll be leaving soon.” He switched on the lamps. Annalise said, looking out to sea at the thunderhead that would be passing over the headland shortly. “I wonder who wrote that on the sand. Do you think Flight has a boyfriend Jan ?” “Might be one of the cloud scientists” He said….
