Sinking On A Beach

I used to come to this beach with dad when I was a schoolboy. We would leave the old lady and the sisters at home and make our way here to spend some quality time together, father and son, just the two of us. I appreciated those times even as a child, I can honestly say that, but today, a grown man able to look back in retrospect, I appreciate them even more. I could come back to this beach a thousand times starting from today if I wanted but I will never have the pleasure and honour of coming here with dad again.
The last time we came here was nearly four years ago. I suppose it took my father's death to prompt me into thinking about the happy moments we had shared. We usually waited until low tide before coming, when the beach seemed to stretch out and brush the horizon, it was sometimes difficult to see where the land ended and the sea began. Dad showed me all the things that the water hid at high tide, like shells and little sideways scurrying crabs. It was a pleasant change from the streets of Glasgow and we were both different people when we came here. Some people dream about going to the Costa del Sol or to the legendary beaches of Hawaii and Australia but I love it right here on the hivernal coast of my country, dreary, windy and hostile though it may be.
Hostile indeed.
Dear old dad had taught me about the dangers of this beach, he hadn't been an overly educated man but he knew a hell of a lot all the same. He'd 'graduated from the school of life' as he often put it. I guess you would say he was a post-grad now. One word of advice that I remember clearly to this day was that beauty is sometimes synonymous with danger. Maybe that was why I have never been attracted to particularly beautiful women. Maybe, who knows?
I can't see my feet at all now, I want to pull with all of my strength, to try to raise my right knee upwards but the last time I did that, less than a minute ago, I regretted it.
My father had, of course, taught me about the moving sands, how to identify the treacherous zones from the solid ones, but apparently I'd been a poor a student.
The familiar grey sky is hovering above me, a vertical infinity of air and clouds. I have known this same sky since the day I was born but never before understood the absolute wonder of it. Birds are flying overhead, oblivious to my existence, such creatures can't empathise with my plight, they defy gravity thanks to the gift of flight.
I can't see anything out at sea, no boats, the only movement out there is that of the water, I have the chilling impression that the tide is turning, it's coming back to reclaim the beach.
No boats at sea, no people on the beach or cars being driven along the road beyond, nothing.
I can feel my state of mind changing, my thoughts becoming confused, I'm going to start panicking soon and when I do that I will struggle and, inevitably, sink more quickly.
The irony of the situation didn't escape my mind despite the strains being placed upon it. I came here to remember my father's life and in doing so I risk joining him in death! If somebody doesn't come along soon I will become a veritable feast for the tiny sideways scuttering crabs that haunt this god-damned beach!
I am breathing too quickly and shallowly, stop, slow down... breathe, while you can.
There is an aeroplane in the heavens above, it's so high that I can't actually see the plane itself but I recognise the streak of vapour left in its trail. Holiday-makers on their way to some exotic location where they will bake themselves in the sun and drink coconut milk, what I wouldn't give to be up there with them!
My knees are almost under the surface now, how far down will I go? Even after I have inhaled my last breath of crisp air will I continue to sink into the depths of the beach? Will my dead body remain hidden for the rest of time, while people come to and leave the beach unaware of the corpse it holds prisoner? Are there others below me, others who didn't learn from their fathers while they had the chance either, or will my unknown and unmarked grave be a lonely one? How can I even ask myself these questions?
Surely sombody will come soon, this can't be the end, this is too absurd a death to really happen to me.

Copyright © Cameron Trost