Backwards or forwards...even that simple distinction may blur, in time.
There is nothing around him but sea and sand and sky. And there is nothing to hear, save the muffled sound of feet on sand and the harsh rhythm of his own breathing and the never-ending wash of waves against the shore. There is no tide on this beach, either -- at least, there is no low-water mark or high-water mark to suggest that there might be a tide, or might have ever been a tide.
Nothing.
And no one, except himself.
Or so Henry Wellard, formerly a midshipman on the HMS Renown, might think.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-07-05 04:48 am (UTC)There is nothing around him but sea and sand and sky. And there is nothing to hear, save the muffled sound of feet on sand and the harsh rhythm of his own breathing and the never-ending wash of waves against the shore. There is no tide on this beach, either -- at least, there is no low-water mark or high-water mark to suggest that there might be a tide, or might have ever been a tide.
Nothing.
And no one, except himself.
Or so Henry Wellard, formerly a midshipman on the HMS Renown, might think.