His name is Nemuel

This is a fun, fantasy piece but written with a small degree of hope behind it.

The sea whispered soothingly against the brilliant white of the sandy shoreline. The waves bobbed up and down as they washed slowly closer to the foaming edge of the waterline but the plastic tube that poked out of the crystal clear water was not really visible to those relaxing on the beach.

The snorkel wearing explorer that I was pretending to be sank back into the water and I moved further along the edges of the coral reef as there had been no-one of interest at that particular point. When I next surfaced it was just enough to see along the water’s surface still hoping not to be noticed. This time an eagle sharp eye inside the mask caught something that sent a tingle down my spine. Not just the fluorescent pink speedos, but the brilliant white smile that caught the sunlight on the smooth and tanned face of its wearer. That person was chatting with what looked like an over friendly guy but luckily neither noticed that they were being watched; that was good, for now at least.

After making a note of where this person was on the beach, I slid back under the water and splashed my way back to the jetty near the beach bar that stood out on stilts into the clear warm waters.

Sweeping the droplets of water from my face and closely cropped scalp, there was an exchange of mask and air tube for a drinks tray that the bartender was holding out. It had become a regular custom to take refreshment later in the afternoon after a swim but today was slightly different; today I needed to know more about the eye candy that I had spotted. Silently I indicated to the barman that we needed another one more of the tall cold glasses that was already dripping with condensation in the heat of the day.

Feeling the temperature of the sand through the still damp soles of my feet and still dripping sea water, I made my way along the beach trying to look relaxed but knowing I had a rather special goal in my mind. The journey was not as easy as you might have thought, there were several pairs of the brightly coloured swimwear similar to those I was looking for but none had the beauty of the wearer I was being drawn to.

Banyugan Beach ResortAdmittedly there were many members of the body beautiful crowd who frequented this private beach front of the Shangri-La’s Boracay Resort and there were even more up in the infinity pool above them, but the muscles and curvaceous figures had little attraction today; neither did the undoubtedly beautiful women fawning over most of them.

Taking a long pull through the straw of one of the drinks, I was concerned that it might be getting warm in the summer heat buffering off the sands, but it was not too bad; for now anyway. Eyes searched further ahead and my strides became a little longer. Then quickly, there he lay, a firm sculpted torso propped up on one elbow, long moulded legs stretching out off the edge of the tastefully bright hotel towel.

The flash of his white smile was almost dazzling set in soft brown features where dimpled cheeks framed rich full lips that curved into a wide crescent smile which outshone all others in view. Long fluttering eye-lashes flirted innocently with the another guy’s equally smooth flawless body, which was noticeably trying to slide closer to the other. My approach went unnoticed to him but I knew this interloper stood no chance of sampling the affections of the dreamy features that looked up as I finally joined the non-event.

“Nemuel my dear, I think someone needs to go and get an iced drink to cool off!” My words were directed at the soon to be retreating well-muscled figure, “the bar is that way or the sea is straight in front of you!”

He took the hint easily, not that he would have done anything else as I stood menacingly over him. It was just a game really, I knew that my Nemuel had eyes only for me and likewise me for him; it was the way it had been since we first made contact in cyber space all those months before.

“David, you are so bad, he goes to my mother’s shop, he was only chatting!”

“I know but it doesn’t do any harm to let these others know that you are with me, you don’t mind do you?”

He narrowed deep-set beautiful green eyes in mock disapproval but reached out a long slender hand to rub against the reddening skin of my rather white body still holding the now not so cold drinks.

“You should get out of the sun, you’re too white,” he laughed a gentle but exquisitely rich sound that made my insides move and I could feel the damp swimwear getting tighter.

Sitting down before I embarrassed myself this was after-all still a private if busy mixed sex beach complex.

“Will you rub some more cream on me then?” I pretended to be upset by his comment, “We can’t all be as naturally beautiful as you can we?”

The stoking of my leg turned into a gentle slap to my thigh as I slid onto the towel he had straightened out from the other guy sitting on it.

“You just lie down and I’ll look after you as usual, you poor white boy!”

I made a sound of my own against his comment but it didn’t mean anything. Having to turn over to my front quickly, the consequences of the pleasures I was about to get from the touch of cool sensuous fingers on my fast burning skin was almost too much to believe. Inside I was starting to burn with another kind of desire yet to be fulfilled with my exotic and beautiful Pilipino friend.

Reluctantly closing my eyes, I hoped that it was not all a dream but the soft, purposeful kiss between my shoulder blades made it very real indeed.


Dark Island II

This is another 99 word piece but is linked to a longer piece, Dark Island, as an exercise in concise writing, let’s see if it works?

For years this had been your happy place, despite being only a sad rocky outcrop, pockets of scented greenery and satisfying pools delight to submerge you to rise refreshed and sated.

Pacing around the shoreline, avoiding its grey foaming lips, the occasional glimpse of a white-topped rescue prove to be just tricks of the mind and it’s only the knightly vision of the rearing dappled stallion holding no benevolence in this solitary jaded pit.

Back in the shelter that now only hangs together with wisps of dreams, the cold nights could take you at anytime and no-one would know.

Dark Island 2

Dark Island

It’s a dark day today

This narrow circle of life in an ocean of sharks is getting smaller by the day. The dark water lapping inexorably at the delicate shore-line is eating inwards towards wrinkled feet where the general isolation is beginning to feel cold and more desperate, almost by the hour.

For years this had been your happy place to live, despite being only a sad rocky outcrop, there were small pockets of lush enveloping scented greenery and cool satisfying pools of delight to submerge in and rise refreshed and sated; but now even these were drying up and wilting in the emotional drought.

Pacing around the shoreline, avoiding its grey foaming lips, the tip of a once tall proud outcrop flicked into view but remained swathed in the feathery spume of the waves that washed it clean of all humanity and hope. You can’t bear to look it for long fearing that the memories of more intimate times will overwhelm you. It’s lone inhabitant that had often allowed the heat of human entanglement was long washed to their uncertain death in the watery hunger. The few other such places were now only clouded memories but at least they couldn’t taunt you with lingering promises but the certainty of a dry shrivelled humiliation.

Even the occasional glimpse of a white-topped rescue only prove to be tricks of the mind, often only theirs as yours has given up that hope long ago; a knightly vision on rearing grey dappled stallion is a thing of beauty but holds no benevolence in this jaded pit.

With less things to distract a crumbling ego and forgotten care, you stumble back to the shelter that now only hangs together with wisps of dreams. Darkness is quickly drawing you in, the light of a life clouded in mouldering billowing fungi and the threats of rumbled horror.

The hiss of the foam creeping ever closer makes you draw up the rough sackcloth and you croak back a cough from the dust of ashes now long cold, night could take you now and no-one would know, would they even care?

Beside you an email pinged into its inbox but just from the subject line you know it wasn’t from him; that boat has sailed and deep down you know there would be no others cruising onto your horizon anytime soon.

Dark Island

The Island

This piece is the result of a writing exercise building on the selection of items for the BBC Radio4 ‘ Desert Island Discs’ format. My recording selections and luxury item can be found at the end of the piece, see if you can relate each to the piece.

The heroic musical themes of the Puccini playing out over the ships loudspeakers seemed bizarre in the chaos as the last of we passengers hung onto the railings not knowing what to do for the best. The Messa di Gloria, a mass for glory seemed rather inappropriate but then it did its best, it could have been a requiem I guess. Another chap spoilt the delicious harmony as he screamed his way down into the sucking vortex of the ships sinking.

I had hung on as long as I did because I thought I could see through the waves as blip of some land getting closer but then I could have just been desperate.

In my head I was singing You Raise Me Up, as the largest of the waves pushed me over the coral reef and rolled my almost lifeless body onto the beach. The sand’s heat was welcome through the tattered remains of my dress suit. We have been attending a gala evening dinner and show. The spectacle of the chandelier falling to the stage during iconic excerpts from Phantom of the Opera proved to not be an effect but the start of the catastrophe.

Listening to the swish swash of the gentle wave fall around me, I didn’t really want to open my eyes for the fear of what might be there. Eventually though, as there were no other sounds to go by I forced the gritty lids to open. A sea of red made them snap shut and I cried out at the pain of crushed sea shells scratching my delicate corneas. Forcing them open, the red wasn’t the gore that I must have thought but a wall of of crimson poppies on the edge of the semi tropical undergrowth. Always musically minded, the opening bars of Andrea Bocelle, Amapola, Poppies, a love song, gently massaged away the pain.

The waves were retreating as the tide fell back towards the lagoon and I sat on a fallen tree trunk watching the large red crabs picking through the high tides bounty.

I had been lucky to have survived, I had to keep telling myself that singular fact although where things would go from here I had no idea. From a week or more of detritus being washed ashore, most of it damaged beyond use by the destructive, grabbing fingers of the reef, it did at least give me more than nature alone was providing. The most useful thing was a large container presumably from the kitchens. Being empty and the lid having somehow stayed on gave me an insect, reptile and bird proof receptacle for things.

A bottle of whisky from the bar had also run the gauntlet but seemed to go down far too quickly. I had taken to sitting to watch the sun go down watching the stars being born in the twilight and quietly singing a Barbara Streisand classic Evergreen, it seemed appropriate in this verdant if empty paradise.

After the amber liquid had run out my stomach was eviscerating itself as I found that you can’t live on coconut as a staple for very long, I forced myself to venture into the lush low jungle.

Surprisingly I thought I would have done this much earlier but the malaise that had settled, hoping to spot the grey white billows from the funnels of a rescue ship slicing through the horizon was fading with each sunset.

I hadn’t gone far along what seemed to be a natural winding path when I was transfixed by an obviously unnatural figure, a slab of rock fringed with creeping vegetation depicted a large figure some twelve feet high. An Armed Man. A warrior, I stood and stared, the jungle around me took on a very different feeling now and every twist of vine became a native limb, each flower became an eye. I tried to become part of the vegetation but nature rejected me and I fled.

Back in the exposed safety of the open beach I realised that my mind was playing tricks as it showed me the flailing blades of scissor like fingers slicing trough the greenery and bloodily into me, Jonny Depp’s portrayal of the misunderstood Edward sent a shiver through me although it was calmed slightly by the haunting theme of what was one of my favourite films. Common sense returned. The figure was obviously just part of a lingering history, hopefully now long gone.

My still tingling nerves reacted with an electric shock and I threw myself to the ground at the terrifying noise from behind me. A long bellowing cacophony of unearthly noise. Behind closed eyes my brain scrambled for an image to put to it; it found one but not before a hand grabbed my shoulder and tried to turn my screwed up face to the sunlight.

A soft French accent massaged my ears, “This one’s alive skip, come on my friend, let’s bring you home.”

Desert Island Discs

Puccini Messa di Gloria
Andrea Bocelle Amapola (Poppy)
Andrew Lloyd-Webber Night time – Phantom of the Opera
Claude-Michel Schönberg Bring Him Home – Les Mis
Barbara Streisand Everything – A start is born
Danny Elfman Theme – Edward Scissor Hands
Karl Jenkins The Armed Man
Josh Groben You raise me up

Luxury Large Large Waterproof Container