The Beach | Short Story

“Do you think he’s still out there?”

Marina put her camera down for a moment. What did she expect? They were at the beach where she and Miles and John spent so many holidays together, with only a bonfire to keep their bodies warm and the roaming spirits away. Now and then, when the moon fuelled the rage of the sea, the ocean breeze carried the quiet voices of those long gone.

“Do we have to talk about it?” She remembered the camera in her hand and took another photo of him. The sun was setting, and she had little time with him left. Her next photography project wouldn’t be complete without her first model, her first friend.

Miles frowned, confused. “Why else did you bring me here, then?” He didn’t want to talk about John, either, but he was ready to face her. It wasn’t her fault his heart measured love by the warmth of her smile, and no other smile could measure up. But all his memories of her were tainted by John’s presence, and by his absence.

Because I needed to see you again. Because when I think of home, I think of you. “I just needed a free model.”

John’s shadow still loomed everywhere she went, and the echo of his voice carried all the answers left unsaid, unknown, and misunderstood. Lately, when her room felt emptier than usual, she tried to picture another presence to fill the void. It was a face she’d seen a million times before, one she didn’t dare name. It felt like a betrayal.

“You think I’m doing this for free?”

“Fine, I’ll buy you dinner and drinks then. Now, walk slowly toward me...”

Through the viewfinder, she discovered details of him she hadn’t allowed herself to notice before — the faint scar on his chin, the full lips, the lively hazel eyes. His playful, crooked smile brought her back to a time full of hope and promise.

He stopped. The light was dying under the weight of a darkening sky.

“Isn’t it a bit too dark now? I’d rather go back to the hotel, grab a bite, get a drink.”

“Alright, let’s go back. Want to look at the photos before we go?”

They huddled close, peering at the camera’s display. In the photos, the ethereal figure of a tall man stood beside Miles, his presence unmistakable despite the lack of clarity in the figure’s features. His face was merged with the waves in the background, but his hands reached out to Miles, to her, as if calling out to them with the voice of the sea. A chill ran down Miles’ spine. He recognised John even from behind the curtain of death.

Marina and Miles looked up at each other, and her eyes welled up with tears. So many questions remained unanswered, but at least they knew where they could find him — by the sea, where he had been the happiest, with the wind as his messenger. They held hands in silence, aware of the cool October breeze carrying the echo of a familiar voice that felt like a blessing of their love.

Thank you for reading Notes from the metro. This post is public so feel free to share it.

Hi, and thanks for reading.

This little story was born as a vignette inspired by an old story I wrote in 2019. While that story will remain forever unpublished, I'm glad I was able to work this one out into something I'm happy to share with you.

Today I have a quick question for you: What makes you keep reading a book all the way to the end? 

In my case, what hooks me are the characters and the setting. If the characters are compelling from the get-go and/or if I can easily imagine the setting in my head, it's likely I'll keep reading.

Thanks again. See you in the comments.