The Drifter

Part 6 of 6 by Joseph Ridgwell

Finally, and quite emphatically, I tore the letter into many pieces and cast them to the wind, watching grimly as they fluttered away and out of my life forever. Then I started walking eastwards on a beach that seemed to go on forever, miles and miles of white sand, sands of time, grains of sand, and for every grain of sand there is a star in the universe and for every star in the universe there is a dead angel baby. I walked and walked until suddenly I realised I could walk for eternity, eternally going nowhere, for the beach and the universe went on forever like a never ending dream, a dream in which a person might never awaken from. Demoralised and exhausted I turned around and retraced my steps, determined to abort the stupid trip and go home. By the time I reached the car the sky had darkened and clusters of wealthy looking stars had begun to appear. On the horizon flashes of white lightening accompanied by the sound of rolling thunder filled the southern sky, it was an ominous sound, the sound of death.


Joseph Ridgwell, author of The Drifter, Part 5, lives and writes in London.