Nirvana Shore
Crashing peacefully against the coral rocks scattered along the ocean shore; the water slipped away back into the sea before crashing once again. An old man sat in the brink of where the ocean washed away the sand, staring out at the empty light from the moon above. The moon reflected the silver light, shining down through the dreamscape color skies. The clouds radiated in the star stickered sky. Lights from the moon snuck through whenever they got the chance, tickling the sandy shore below. The glittering sand caught sight of the moon and gleamed on farther down the shore, cascading along the sloping hills. The scent of flowers tangled up in the air with the rain.
Shards of hundreds of textures and colors radiated on the shore and carried symbols and drawings so old time could not compete with its age. They were spiked in all different directions, marked with scars of time and messages of the dearly departed. There were some gravestones here and there hiding beneath these neon stones, staying ever still upon its’ resting place. The old man had looked at them and sighed heavily, thinking more thoughts of shame and regret. The crispy smell of night time winds flowed into his body, giving him enough energy to jump off the rock and call it a day.
Each step he made spoke like a whisper among the sea. His purpose unknown and unidentified; the nameless man stepped closer and closer to the reason why he came here. Kicking away the scatters of wood with his heavy black boots, his shadow cast a dull spell over all lights of the sand and moon. Everything lost life and color in his presence.
He stood before a gravestone hanging in the sand beneath one of the many oddly colored rocks. He only regretted his thinking of it, as it brought back more memories and more regret. His cloak remained fast to his head, refusing to reveal his undisclosed face. Rain began to pour down upon the world, slipping off his cloak onto the already soaked sand beneath his feet. Thoughts of irony passed through his mind, giving him a moment of break from all the memories. But it was no use; the smell of roses only strengthened the scarring pain.
Raising a hand before him, he wiped away the dust on one of the gravestones that lay protected beneath the surreal stones. At the sight of it, he whished his head away and began shaking. Looking upon the grave one more time, he fell to his knees with his arms hanging lifelessly at his side. The crisp smell of night air had been wisped away; leaving the all too familiar smell of roses. He shook a little more, weeping at his dead acquaintance before him. The wind threw itself against the old man and blew away his hood, revealing his tortured face. The rain fell against his skin; it burnt it washed away old scars of long times past. It was a sharp pain, burning like a blazing fire against the wind of ice and cruelness. He looked up and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the pain stab the wounds on his face. Once more he looked upon the smooth marble gravestone before him. Reaching into the dirty dry insides of his cloak, he slowly pulled out a white rose. His hand wavered as he placed it upon the grave. The water crashed on the rose petals; shining bright waters of hazel and silver. Bending his worn knees to get up, the old man began to limp away from the resting place. He didn’t even bother to put his hood back on, wishing to smell the roses more clearly, and to see the sea more vividly.
As he walked away back to where he came from, he didn’t once look back. He didn’t even glance. This was his farewell until next year, the next time he would visit the grave and it’s sweet smell of roses. He stopped for a moment, wiping his face with his injured hands. The pain of the rain felt good. Before he kept going, he closed his eyes.
“Happy birthday Teresa.” He muttered to the sea.
