Sand

The boy labours in the sand. The waves tickle closer, the sun drops lower in the sky, and still he keeps digging.

Papa, speaking softly, rests a hand on his shoulder. Gestures up the beach to where Mama is packing up their things. Scowling, the boy shrugs him away. Papa frowns, too, his voice hardening. The boy digs.

At last, he's prised away. He begs Mama to bring him back the next day. Papa is gruff. He doesn't think the boy should be rewarded for his rudeness.

The next day, Mama packs sandwiches and lemonade, and brings him back. The tide has undone yesterday's hard work. There's barely a dip in the sand. His face hardens. He sets to work. He must dig faster, further.

When he glances up, he sees Mama's floppy straw hat, the book in her hand, her bright blue skirt. He keeps going, sweat dripping down his face.

The locals know him by sight, and some of them speculate, good-naturedly, about his mission. Is there treasure down there? Is he trying to get to Australia?

The boy digs. Every day he can come back to the beach, he digs. He gets taller, and broader. Fluff makes a sheepish appearance on his chin. He really should get himself a girl, or a guy, but still... he digs.

The old folks don't speculate any more. They clear their throats, and look away. They talk about the weather, and tourists, and other things. When he leaves, they mutter he's a strange one.

The man treads the accustomed path to the same old spot, his shovel in its old groove on his broad shoulders. It cuts through the damp sand, the wet crunch a familiar song in his ears.

With grey in his hair, and his back stooped, his milky eyes spare no glance for the sun beaming down on the summer sea.

Today he goes as deep as he ever has, despite persistent grinding and stabbing in his back and joints. Something shines under the last thin layer of sand, but his eyes don't see it.

In the morning, there's barely a dip in the sand. Only the end of a shovel peeking through it.

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Word count excluding note: 366

Submitted on Saturday 13th July at 22:46

*Quick Author's Note*

First, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent.

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

A Year of Stories

I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 195 day streak since 1st January.


Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Please do leave me a comment. I try to reciprocate as many as I can. Leaving a comment makes that easier.

The story behind the story: I had this image of a kid digging a mega pit on the beach, trying to see how deep he could go... but every day the tide undoes it, and every day he comes back and tries again... And he never outgrows it. Probably an allegory or some shit, innit. Life. Time. Our worldly endeavours and whatnot.

Thank you!

Thank you again, most sincerely. Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed!

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