on the pier

I stand alone on the pier. My clothes are still heavy with dust from the abandoned theatre, and the tired ghosts of that empty place still haunt my thoughts. I have been battling the world and there are cobwebs on my combat boots. But - I have to remind myself of this - I've made progress. I escaped the theatre. I rode the ferris wheel into the sky and down to the dirt. I stumbled down cold dusty roads toward that sliver of sea that I saw from up high, and now I am standing before that ocean, wider and more endless than I had imagined, while the sun slowly sinks into the water.

Seagulls cry and wisps of clouded color dance in the sky, while a cold salty breeze ruffles my hair and ripples my skirt. I stare at the horizon, hoping that things really can be as endless as they seem. I am saddened to find that the sea, which I had sought so determinedly, now frightens me with its vastness, its deepwater mystery. While I am thinking about this, I notice that there is someone else standing at the very end of the pier, also staring out to sea. I cannot see his face, but I know that he is the other actor from the abandoned theatre.

The last of the sunset now lingers in the sky. Ghost light. Then the red globe of the sun falls over the edge of the world, and the sky slowly darkens, waves whispering toward night. I see his blurred outline start to turn and walk back down the pier, but then someone else rushes past me and embraces him. I look away from this private moment. Then I hear their footsteps, and see them walking hand-in-hand down the pier, toward the beach. The boy looks over his shoulder and notices me for the first time. Our eyes meet for a moment and I smile crookedly at him. He smiles back, and then the other person puts an arm around him, and the two of them start walking down the beach.

I turn back toward the sea and stare at the glowing snow-moon high above, and the stars just twinkling out in the rich darkness. I think about the two people I have just seen. I am happy for them. The other actor has truly escaped the theatre. But still I feel a little bit jealous, because the marks of that place are still noticeable on me, and I always hear its nightmare-whispers after sunset. Suddenly I feel alone. It's an unfounded feeling, but it's there anyway. The loneliness is not strong, but it's there whispering in the back of my mind. I examine it and realize that I do not regret the relationships and the past that I have turned away from. But I do resent the thick cobwebs that prevent me from reaching out to new opportunities and the risk of hope. Oh, stop being melodramatic, I jokingly tell myself, but I can't shake the feeling that there is something I am missing.

Then I hear music. It is faint but clear, beautiful, every note ringing in the ocean air. I look out to sea and back to the shore, scanning for the source of the music. Then I see it. Perched at the end of the pier, a small phoenix. Red and orange like fire, with seawater-blue tail feathers and piercing eyes. From its delicate beak emerge the magical notes. I start to walk toward it. I have a question to ask it... Something I think I need to know. But then the music stops. The phoenix grins, winks at me and flies toward the moon.