Boy On A Beach He sank into the sand, watching the stars and the#moonemerge from the bellowing abyss that was the sky - shining mercenaries, claiming victory over the dying sun. The sun melted into the ocean; a syrupy smooth concoction of purples and reds. The struggle faded against the growing might of darkness: a graceful goodbye. The day was done. He sank fast and without a worry, as the battle of the sun and the stars was won, and all was silent. The boy turned onto his side and noticed the tide. The sea was breathing and with every gasp, the air buzzed with impatience. Wide eyed and innocent, he inspected the water. Questions of boyish imagination littered his spotless mind. His thoughts were halted when he felt an unfamiliar finger on his shoulder. Shadows of towering palm trees swayed and caressed the shoreline. A feeling of invasion and alienation rose up in the child. The tide seemed to edge closer with ever increasing pace, and each of Poseidon’s heaving breaths pulled at the fragile boy’s limbs. ‘Run.’ The shadows whispered. They were everywhere. So he ran, filled with rejection, and a feeling of raw and artless fear. The wind shoved him and those unfamiliar fingers prodded him; he couldn’t stop. A storm was brewing, and he was its eye.