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Purples streaked across the sky like a tear, enveloping the night. The colors bled into each other, as one eventually faded into the next like a spill. Both the rock-like moons hung in orbit, casting little light below.
Waves crashed against the shore, piling one after another. The ocean replaced silence.
Shrike studied the horizon. Far out, past the rocking waves, the sea looked still enough to walk across. Into the distant waters, sky ingested the ocean. Where deep sky fell and dim sea ran, the barrier between the two couldn’t be defined, but only night was known to exist.
He breathed, legs clambered together onto the sand, overlooking the night’s scene. Light shimmered specks on the water, few and far between. A grain of sand pinned between his cheek and gum. He spat it out. Finding another, he stopped.
Sand is a diet now.
Shrike sat still. Pushing around the sand, feeling the fine stones tempt to cut at his feet. The wind was soft, a warm light breeze, even for the night.
“I hope you’re happy.” He gritted his teeth. Clenching his jaw. “I hope you got everything you wanted.” Resting his head on folded arms that stacked on his knees.
A small stone sat away and Shrike reached to pick it up. The stone was dark with layers of black and brown. Holes, flakes and bubbles made up the rock.
He gripped it in his hand. Edges digging into his palm and fingers.
He stood up; pulling back his arm to throw, only to drop his hand to his side. He studied the rock again. Smooth, glazed in a natural coating, rough at certain edges.
Ocean was vast. Spanning in every direction around him.
Shrike held the stone. His chest had been heaving.
He looked out to the waters. Waves slamming into the shoreline, their sounds hammering off of the island’s trees. Wind brushed up and danced with sand before running away. Nothing was out tonight. Sand grains bit at his neck and swam between his collar and skin.
The wind, waves and blood flooded his ears. His shoulder throbbed as the rock was flung. It soared through the stars. Dropping into waters without anything to show for it.
Shrike threw himself to fold forward, catching himself with his own footing. “Screw you, Beebs!” Spit flew from his mouth. He stood straight, turning his side to the ocean. Taking another step, he slung more spittle past his teeth yelling, “I wanted that company as much as you—more than you! More than you!”
The waves slid on the shore. Moonlight glimmered over the ocean in specks, like paint. Slow, steady. Wind drew through the tropical leaves of the island.
Shrike fell back in the sand. The water flowed as it did before. The blood was gone and the wind swept lightly.
He pulled up his legs, watching the ocean go by.