The Endless Summer

The Endless Summer

 

The sun had been bright all morning, but now it started to beat down with the savage intensity that you only get near the tropics. Maxine lay prone on her surfboard as the hot sun warmed her back, and relaxed into the gentle surge of the waves, allowing her arms and legs to trail languidly in the cool, green water. She could clearly see the sandy sea floor about four metres below her, see the odd fish dart or glide across her field of vision. She looked up to get her bearings and saw a ripple on the horizon. Straddling her surfboard, she sat up and brought her hand to her eyes, peering out to sea. A large wave powered toward her. “Great,” she thought “one last wave” She paddled out to meet it and, when she was in the sweet spot, turned around and waited for it to get close. As the wave neared, she paddled hard, straining against its pull and when she felt it kick up behind her, she stood up on her board in a single fluid movement and she was off, board slicing through the translucent sea. She rode that wave all the way into shore. Perfect. Today was going to be perfect.

            While she trudged up the beach with her surfboard wedged under her arm, her stomach grumbled and she mused about what she’d buy for lunch “Burritos or bust, baby.” she thought, smirking to herself. But when she fished around in her backpack, her purse wasn’t there. No burritos. She sighed and headed for the car. Hopefully she’d left her purse at home.

            Maxine drove home and parked the car on the street. She got out, squinting in the harsh sunlight, and walked up the path to the door, thongs slapping against her heels. At the door, she noticed that it was open a crack and her heart skipped a beat. Not good. She pushed the door halfway open and poked her head through, craning her neck to see inside.

“Hello, Maxine.” said a woman’s voice, and she started, banging her head on the door frame.

“S**t!” she said, rubbing her head and stepping inside, “Is that you, Joan? You scared the s**t out of me!”

“Surprised to see me?” Joan stood in the kitchen, arms crossed.

“You’re not supposed to be back ‘till tonight.”

“I came early.” Joan’s eyes glinted, hard as glass. Maxine squirmed inside. Something bad was going down.

“Yeah, well, I see that.” A dark expression came over Joan’s face and she looked Maxine in the eye.

“Are you sure you had nothing to do with this, Max?” Maxine felt the bottom of her gut drop out and her hands started to sweat.

“I don’t even know what’s happened! “She said. “I was at the beach ‘till ten minutes ago.”

“And you’ve touched nothing?”

“Not since I left, no.”

“But isn’t that your purse on the table?”

Maxine felt the blood drain from her face.  “I…I must have forgotten it.” Her voice was beginning to tremble, and Joan knew it. Her mouth turned upwards into a sneer and she looked down her nose at Maxine.

“So, nothing to eat, nothing to drink all morning, on such a hot day while surfing for hours and hours…”

Maxine stiffened. “Look, whatever you’ve got to say…”

“Yeah, I’ll say Maxine. You killed Shane. He’s in the bathroom. And the stash is gone. How much did you get for it?”

Joan reached behind her back and pulled out a gun, levelling it at Maxine’s chest. Maxine splayed her hands out in front of herself in mute appeal. It was supposed to be easy, she thought, Shane was supposed to hide the stash, make it look like they’d been robbed. Once the dust settled, they were going to leg it to Melbourne in Shane’s kombi, sell the gear and go off the grid on a surfing safari. Maybe the west coast, maybe Indonesia. It didn’t matter. They’d be together. That was all that mattered.

            But something had gone wrong. Shane was dead and Joan thought she’d done it. Joan the loose cannon. Joan the f*****g psycho. Maxine was crying now, fat, silent tears rolled down her face and her eyes pleaded at Joan. She took a step towards Maxine and she started to speak. “Listen, Joan, it wasn’t me…”

“Shhhh,” said Joan “Its ok. It’s going to be ok.”

Maxine heard a loud noise and suddenly she was on her back. Her chest was burning and she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes searched the room desperately and found Joan holding the smoking gun. She looked at her chest, and saw a flower of blood growing and spreading. Joan moved out of her vision and the world faded to black.

Maxine felt herself floating. She was on a surfboard, her limbs dangling into a smooth velvet sea. She felt a cool breeze blowing on her skin, but could hear no sound. Lifting her head, she could make out a grey sky and a dark shoreline, not too far off. Out to sea, she saw the horizon buckle, and knew that a wave was coming. Before too long, she picked it out, its looming bulk lumbering toward shore like a dark cetacean. When it neared, she paddled hard and caught it neatly. She surfed the powerful black wave all the way in to the shore. Stepping off the surfboard, she felt the black sand, gritty beneath her feet. The beach stretched infinitely to her left and to her right. Looking up, she saw a figure standing up among the dunes. It was Shane, his hair tousled by the inaudible wind. He was smiling, and in his hands he held the stash.

 

Reviews

[Gaia Octavia]

Good story. Can't help but assume Joan had a bigger hand in Shane's early end and that she waited for Maxine to get home to A.) ensure she knew Joan "won" and B.) had an easy scapegoat (seemed like she was practicing her story to tell the cops on Maxine before she killed her). But you know what they say about assuming! Your story says a lot even with its short length. It draws a reader in and holds them there. Especially from the point of Maxine's obviously mistaken summary of how her day is going to be "perfect." Very rich imagery as well. Well done.

[Zugzwang]

Hey, Gaia. Thanks very much for reading it. It's a funny one...it was a narrative writing exercise, the dialogue was given, we had to elaborate on it. I didn't say what happened to Shane, and liked the ambiguity regarding his fate...was it Joan the loony or another opportunist who got the jump on them all? It was fun to write, and it's something I think I can come back to and tinker with. Perhaps that ambiguity is something I'll change, perhaps not.
Thanks for the compliment on imagery, it was what I was trying to do. Hopefully my lecturer likes it too. He's also my tutor. Scary. :)

[Gaia Octavia]

Luckily you have something called actual talent. So I'm sure she loves having you as a pupil. I loved those exercises! My favorite was each student put one random line down and then we had to write a poem including all those lines. It's funny too because (and I'm being honest here) as I read it I was surprised by the dialogue at first because it didn't "sound" as much like you as the rest did. I chalked it up to being because it was women talking and perhaps you purposefully changed it to sound different. Damnit I should have asked.

[Zugzwang]

Yeah, that bit stands out, doesn't it. It's really just bookended by me, 'cept I've put some descriptive stuff in there. It's a bit weird but I kinda like the way it transitions through those three stages...but, yes, if it were all me the middle bit would be a lot more compact, or weird, or both.
That poetry exercise sounds cool, perhaps I'll get to have a go at it when I do poetics...but that's not till next year :(
And thanks for calling me talented. Right back at ya.

[Gaia Octavia]

I liked your parts better ☺ I mean that in the not dirty way.

[Zugzwang]

Hyuck hyuck. Yar, the bit in the middle drags so I need to get in there and tighten it up. This is very much a first draft.

[Gaia Octavia]

Ha ha I see what you did there...

[Gaia Octavia]

Also, I am rereading all my old writing exercises now :-) Entertainment!

[Zugzwang]

Yar, if ya gots some prose, I'd be innerested in havin a look see.

[Gaia Octavia]

I don't know if I'd call it "good" but I can post a few exercises for ya

[Zugzwang]

Oooh, goody! Looking forward to it.
I'm actually surprised by how much I'm enjoying narrative. I get to play with my crazy ideas in a different, less compact way.

[Gaia Octavia]

I only have the work from two classes as my last computer died with my entire folder of writing from my writing degree which I hadn't put on my external hard drive yet. I still have it and I plan to get it back! I posted a couple exercises from the very first creative writing class I took as an elective while getting my Psych degree. I did not go in to fix my grammar or other mistakes. These were the first two pieces I ever wrote and "showed" to someone by turning it in. Enjoy :-) Once you're done I'll take them down.

[Gaia Octavia]

There is something very freeing about structured assignments. And I found that eventually, having a deadline (for assignments) actually made me write much better than I ever thought I could.

[Zugzwang]

I agree heartily. That's why I came back to uni...for the guidance and the structure. Now I'm just trying to keep up!

[Zugzwang]

Having a look now...

[Gaia Octavia]

And *poof* they're gone ☺ Thanks for the convo. You are gonna have a lot of fun w ur classes. Don't forget to share!

[Zugzwang]

Yar, the classes will be fantastic. And have no fear, I'll post the lot :)

[Gaia Octavia]

Awesome. I just ordered an external hard drive case so I hope to get my work back soon. I'll prob just break it but it's worth a shot. Yay Google!

[Zugzwang]

Cool, but I thought your old 'puter died...haveya found a way to get the files off of it?

[Zugzwang]

And don't forget mister cloud. I've got all my crap on onedrive just in case.

[Gaia Octavia]

By taking the hard drive out and putting it in the case (correctly) it turns it into an external hard drive with no need for the broken laptop. I can hook it to my working comp to get the files off it.

[Gaia Octavia]

Yeah I don't know why I am stubborn about that but the cloud freaks me out.

[Zugzwang]

Yes, I just looked it up. Very nifty.
Well, then, I guess this means you'll be posting some prose soon, eh?
Happy editing. MMMMwahahahaha!

[Gaia Octavia]

Oh I won't touch it! I'd never stop! Either that or I will be posting about breaking my hard drive and my one chance to recover my files

[Gaia Octavia]

Which, to be honest, seems more likely

[Zugzwang]

Haha. Looking forward to seeing a poem about your hard drive.
Long form.

[Gaia Octavia]

I can already see it: 'Hard Crash'

[Zugzwang]

Lovely. I can already see the carcrash and hospital metaphors.
Make sure you reference a hip hop song.

[Gaia Octavia]

Oh I ALWAYS reference a hip hop song given the opportunity ☺ I rock it old school Eminem, Tupac, Bone Thugs in Harmony, or Funky Cold Medina. ☺ I feel like I should have ended this convo a few posts back but I'm livin on the edge of bedtime

[Zugzwang]

You have entered the silly zone. I know it well. I'm listening to Linkin Park atm...I like the angst.

[Gaia Octavia]

Angst can be a particularly productive emotion when it comes to creativity ☺ I will let u enjoy ur music and be off to bed. I love how partying till 6am turns into "sober silly time at 12:30" ☺ Enjoy and thanks for the chat.

[Zugzwang]

Haha. Take it easy. Cya.

[V]

Interesting story that got me hooked. I like the way you mingle soft and bright images with a tad of unease and darkness.

[Zugzwang]

Hey, thanks for reading it!!
It was an exercise for a creative writing class (all my prose is), but I like how it turned out.
I never thought I'd write prose, but there you go...
z.

[Zugzwang]

I'm logging off now. Ta ta.

[V]

You're welcome. It reads well. I thought about writing storys too, I have a lot of ideas but I'm an awful perfectionist, I haven't found the perfect sentence to start with yet.

[Zugzwang]

Well, in my experience you just start writing crap but if you stay with it ideas pop into your head and the crap gets refined. Take a look at Stephen King's 'On Writing' and his amusing take on the muse. Much beloved by creative writing teachers.

[V]

Ok. Thanks for the recommendation.

[Zugzwang]

Yar, it's a good read. He reckons his muse is a cigar smoking slob.

[V]

Sounds interesting.

[Zugzwang]

Yar its pretty cool.