Diamonds Are Forever (639 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.75 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by r0fl (View user info) at 2006-06-17 15:49:21 EDT
"Heads up!"
An athletic man yelled, a neon-pink Frisbee floated through space toward me, slightly tilted to the left and toward the ocean.
My charcoal pencil outlined the sunset as best it could, given the color discrepancies. My sketch rested on my thighs as I dug my feet in the sand.
The waves crashed down, sometimes furiously, sometimes nonchalant. Regardless of strength and frequency, a salty burst approached those in its presence, announcing the waves' arrival every time.
I dug my toes deeper in the sand, its grit dispersing between them. The smell of seaweed enveloped me and I pulled my Black Dog cap lower to shield my eyes, continued to sketch.
The sun was where it was supposed to be according to the local newspaper, darting beneath the Pacific, escaping for a brief, 10-hour siesta.
Palm trees dotted the outline of the beach, as joggers jogged, sunbathers took in their last glimpse and the ocean continued to batter the coastline.
In the distance, a line of rocks jutted out to sea, an odd sight and frequent to those sightseeing and visiting our beach.
The legs of my beach chair were almost fully digested by the beach itself as the waves continually crashed further and further away. An hour ago they were at the nail beds of my feet.
The caw of seagulls directed my attention to the right, also spotting two more joggers, slightly elderly. They jogged to a mysterious, inaudible beat, delivered to them by headphones with antennae.
The sun dug deeper into its nightly crevasse, attempting slumber. The sky slowly morphed into a frail pink, oranges and reds creeping in from the outward horizon.
A man strolled towards me from my left, spraying to and fro a metal detector, attempting to locate loose change and precious metals, or at the very least, discarded beer cans for redemption from the college students frequenting the beach.
My lungs expanded as I inhaled the cool sea breeze, attempting to capture the moment. There's something beautiful in something you attempt to capture, but fail not by lack of skill, but by lack of tools. That's what I'm trying to portray here, hopefully some yuppie will pick up on that and give me a shit-load of money.
I was almost down to my ankles now, the moist sand encompassing any pores uncovered in my feet and lower fibula.
A UCLA hooded sweatshirt was discarded on my right side as two young girls disrobed and ran towards the ocean, ready to do battle with the tide.
I've been on the beach longer to know, the Pacific will win.
"I wish Rachel were here," one yelped as the water splashed their feet. "Did she come home last night?"
"I don't think so, she went home with that guy, with the white bandana." They both sighed and hummed at the same time, that expression of envy and jealousy girls do sometimes.
The distinct thwack of palms on a volleyball echoed throughout the atmosphere as teams of 5 fought for beach supremacy on this eve.
Mackey, as I'd called him after one of his uniform's inscribed "Mack" on his left upper breast, walked toward me with his metal detector in the neutral position.
"How much you think this'a worth, Misstah. C.?" he asked.
He handed me a silver necklace, with a diamond-like stone in the center, clasp intact. It shimmered in the remaining amber sunlight.
"I dunno, Mackey," I replied. "Hundred bucks?"
"Shit sir, you think so?" he exclaimed, excited.
"I suppose Mack, but I'm not much in the jewelry biz, I just teach Economics, 'member?"
Mackey walked away, a mix of emotions being tossed back and forth as his steps of his beaten sandals kicked up sand in my direction, as well as any others fortunate enough to be in his radius.
The flip-flop sound reminded me of nothing in particular, as the waves in the distance became less audible, but more pronounced in aroma, the smell of seaweed, salt and dead fish surrounding us all, barnacles in neighboring rocks staring back at with untimely patience.
"Watch out!" yelled a Fris-be-teer.
The neon-pink disk landed within reach, and I flipped it towards them without losing my roots, feet dug deep not within the sand. I adjusted my cap and analyzed the cloud cover.
"La Jolla is for relaxation," I mumbled, mostly under my breath, in disgust of the beachgoers this evening as the college campuses locally emptied out for sun-soaked summer months.
A breeze blew against my back, a rarity. A hint of marijuana and pepperoni pizza filled my nostrils, to my delight as well as scorn toward the youth.
"Can't they do that in their own private, quarters?" I asked myself.
Mack stumbled along, rum on his breath again. His detector swayed to-and-fro as his wrist muscles flexed toward and against his body.
I dropped the charcoal pencil and began to pick the sand out from underneath my fingernails, signaling the end of my day here. I had two renderings, both of quality I'm happy with. It was now time for a slow decent back up the beach and roads toward home to drink, sleep, and repeat.
Mack ran toward me again, kicking sand towards and away from me, if that were at all possible.
"Hey, Misstah C!" How much for this one?!
Mack held out an engagement ring between his index finger and thumb.
"Where in God's name did you find that? Someone probably dropped it or some shit." I replied, annoyed at Mack's capitalistic intent.
Mack pointed toward an empty space located equidistant from where we were seated and the volleyball nets.
The waves crashed even farther now, twilight trickling in from the corners of the sky. Clouds retreated, afraid of the twilight.
There was still enough light to play volleyball of course, and apparently to find jewels.
"Show me," I commanded, listening to the surf and smelling another outward breeze, this one of fried dough. My stomach rumbled, reminding me of my last meal around noon.
"Here, right here," Mack motioned, indicating a relative circle, marking his territory.
I dismounted from my perch half-beneath the sand, as the granules still clung to my legs.
Sand gets everywhere.
"I'll be honest with you Mack, this wasn't abandoned, or lost. Are you sure you found it here?" I queried, holding the valuable ring in my hand studying it.
He answered all right, by clipping his headphones back on and passing the detector across the surface beneath our feet.
The head of the machine passed back and forth in a beautifully rhythmic motion, the clicks and audible messages only decipherable to Mack himself.
"Here, I've got something else!" he shouted, now drawing attention from a few volleyball players not involved in the present play on the ball.
We began to dig, finding an earring. When held up, the stones seemed to match. The earring seemed relatively new as well.
"Listen Mack, I know I told you that this shit was worth something, but I wouldn't be sellin' it any time soon."
"What do you mean?" he asked, his empty teeth boring into me, begging for some justification to sell the items he found.
"I think we should call the police," I stated, cold and flat. The sun's upper crisp was barely noticeable; the floodlights would be needed soon.
If it came to that.
The sky turned from pink and orange to blue and green. From the distance, still visible, two police cruisers rushed the scene, as I explained the situation.
"Mackey" wasn't exactly the most legal human you've met, but he was my friend, and a good person.
It was still light out, by the rising moon and twilight from the stars, helped by the oscillating blues flashed from the cruisers.
Crowds began to gather, besides the volleyball coeds and myself included..
We all stood, encircling Mack's territory as a woman beginning to decompose began to be uncovered.
She was missing a necklace but was still brandishing an earring in her left ear.
Her other earring was hidden deep in Mackey's pocket with seashells and nickels.
To my right, one of the volleyball players held the ball under his right arm, rubbing his temple with his left hand.
They exchanged puzzled glances as I filled them in on what I knew, folding my beach chair and shaking the sand out from within it.
To my left, those playing Frisbee pretended to be concerned, but were surprised of the authorities finding her already. One wiped the newly formed sweat from his brow with a white bandana.
They figured they had at least one more day.
User Reviews
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-06-19 16:32:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
awesome title, plus, I was actually in La Jolla this weekend
Submitted by alwayspeach1 (user info) at 2006-06-18 11:38:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice, but I am a fan of paragraphs also. Old school perhaps.
Submitted by PeopleAreStrange (user info) at 2006-06-18 02:35:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Some advice for you about paragraphs: http://www.ubersite.com/m/89330#2026242
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2006-06-18 00:05:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I am dropping a random +2 somewhere and here it is! Yay!
Submitted by MrSparkle847 (user info) at 2006-06-17 23:42:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
whee
Submitted by r0fl (user info) at 2006-06-17 17:41:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Doodles (user info) at 2006-06-17 17:10:32 (#)
Ranking: 2
As soon as I saw this I though 'George Bush doesn't care about black people.'
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This legitimately made me laugh out loud.
Submitted by Doodles (user info) at 2006-06-17 17:10:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
As soon as I saw this I though 'George Bush doesn't care about black people.'
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2006-06-17 16:52:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
It's so hard to get old without a cause
I don't want to perish like a fading horse
Years like diamonds in the sun
And diamonds are forever
~ Alphaville, "Forever Young" (Download the Youth Group version, it's better.)
That's all I could think about while reading this.
But it was still a gooooood story.
Submitted by GDR (user info) at 2006-06-17 16:23:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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