him.

Normally I can see for miles. But a chilly sea mist is colouring everything.
I stare away from the horizon, and observe with wonder, the surface reflections of the cold, clear and near brackish green, Sea. Tiny waves wrestle within waves; as they reflect, refract or absorb the pale morning light. The sea reminds me of time…in fact, it becomes time... For both sea and time swirl in constant eddies of hidden currents that then ebb and flow about my prescience… I have to say, that even when it appears at peace, its’ only an appearance. Its near fibrous form is always restless; flexing its surface membrane, of translucent tender skin, around an invisible, yet very powerful muscle… and always its mysterious…always it keeps its real presence and purpose hidden from view.
Yet time, like the sea, leaves traces of itself... like worn pebbles in the sand. It skins our much loved and tenderly kept linear memories; and with cold calculation, slowly wears them away, as wave after wave, removes year upon year from the flesh of our souls… leaving nothing but bare bones....and dry shallow dust of or physical form.
I slowly sit down in a crossed legged position upon the hard brown rock of "the point". I shut my eyes, and beg to listen to those tiny waves within waves, as they gently collide against each other; so near, yet not near enough to my pale, almost numb, naked feet.
Yes...There is something mystical about the slapping, sucking sound of this near silent sea... I hear in its motion the delicate echo. It pings, like a solitary sonar note, deep within; and as it bounces back, from some black hidden depth, unknown to me. It brings to the surface of my mind, images old and new. While I, in a steady stream of partial, near dream, consciousness; try to clasp hold of these tiny stones of thought; these surface waves of the years long past, and of the years yet to come; roll over, over and ever over, onto my steadily clearing mind. And as I start to absorb all the emotions connected to them; I realise that these images of recollections past and yet to come, are not buried or forgotten by time, as they haphazardly collide upon one another. I bear witness to something greater… I perceive that they being gathered together, before being slowly, and delicately, led away from me, by something greater than mere I
I open my eyes once more to watch the waves, silently slide away from me. They finally writhe, almost snakelike, upon the long arc of the sandy beach, that rests ever languidly in the pale grey, middle distance; about fifty feet away. Beyond the grey sandy shore, there rises the grassy bank and the collection of wind twisted sand dunes. I can just see them, picked out in an almost ethereal light; like a series of sharply cut lines, made by a coarse knife, into shades of black steel and cold iron grey.
I recall my Dad and Mum bringing me here, long before "They" came. The first thing I recall is my inner excitement. Of the trip, I recall the strange burning smell of electricity and the old oil that mixed badly with the stale cracked leather interior of the dark green Morris Minor he owned, as it battled down those narrow roads that surround the point. I can still see my Dad gently smiling down upon me. His skin had a reddish leathery quality, his face round and large; his gentle eyes a chestnut brown, alive, yet almost hidden by his thick bushy eyebrows. His voice a mixture of warmth, yet carrying a heavy thick grizzled bear tonal quality to it; as he spoke grandly about the history of the Lighthouse. While my mother sat next to him in the passenger seat. Not so silently clock-watching. Her narrow, bird-like body, forever, it seems to me, tightly wrapped up in her dark turquoise raincoat. Her tightly rolled auburn hair was always hidden from view from the outside world, by a tightly drawn yellow and red paisley scarf around her narrow head. Her pale blue eyes never shone, and her face, would be forever pinched with lines of tired careworn bitterness; as she spent her time complaining about the weather, the trip, or her marriage to a man she never really loved… or that I would probably puke before we got there….and… I have to say… that occasionally… and out of an act of malicious spite... sometimes I did.
It's out of the dunes a see a solitary shape take form. It’s a dark shadow, that slowly becomes... becomes... no! I shut my eyes tight so tight it hurts. I punch the cold cracked ground with my now hard fists causing shards of pain to slam up my arms. I hear a sound. I slam my hands over my ears. I don't want to see. I don't want to feel. I want to forget! Forget! Forget! Car doors slam. Screams. Silence.
I turn around, so I know I am not facing the beach. I remove my hands. I open my eyes. and stare at the blooded blistered skin now covers my sore knuckles. I look up. The sun shines a dull grey though the mist. But it's blocked from direct view by the huge tower that stands over me. It’s the shadow of our home…St Mary’s lighthouse, upon the edge of Whitley Bay. Again I hear the sounds, I don’t want to look up, I don’t want to see. But I feel it, staring at me, its cold black eyes not hiding its contempt. it wants me to recall the day…the day I came here… the day I faced… no… I am not going to, it can’t make me… it can’t.
‘I’m greater than you!’ I hear the words echo falter and fall, they sound like a sad joke that Faustus might have said the day he… no… no… I will not think on it… ‘I am greater than you!’ I shout again. I hear a distant laugh that chills me to the bone.
Time… its cruelty mocks me, like the sea it wracks images of what was and what might have been. Christ how I hated him. How I hated everything about him. How he lied, how he cheated me. Cheated us all… but I found out… yes… I found out and I brought him here…. Where we first met, and I silenced him. I shut him up and cut out his sickly beating, cheating heart before I burned what was left of his sallow fucking corps upon the rocks… I thought that would have been the end… but it wasn’t… no… because ha hahaha he’s still here! Still here upon the beach with blackened eyes that mock and bloodless hands that point, his toothless grin from his bleached skin screams at me!
‘I am greater than you.’ But I don’t believe it any more… its time…
Fuck it.