The Beachcomber And The Alien #writephoto

‘Helloooo!’

‘Bloody hell. You made me jump.’

‘Pretty empty, isn’t it?’

‘It was.’

‘Sorry? Oh I see. You mean before I came along.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Sorry.’

‘You said that.’

‘You’re a bit…’

‘Snarky? Pissed? Justifiably aggrieved?’

‘I was thinking precious.’

‘So you’re not really sorry, then?’

‘It’s just a.. you know, figure of speech?’

‘Really? I was brought up believing it was a basic apology. It has meaning.’

‘Are you not from here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, the British.. English anyway, we’re always apologising for things we haven’t done wrong.’

‘You think I’m some sort of illegal alien.’

‘No, it’s not… look, I am sorry to have upset you and all but this beach is huge, there’s just the two of us, at least a mile of sand, a fantastic sunset so can’t we just ignore each other and enjoy being outside and then go our separate ways?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

…

‘You aren’t prepared to let me stand here and watch the sun go down?’

‘You have to leave.’

‘Why? Or maybe, given how literal you seem to be, how will you make me?’

‘Let’s stick to the why. You really don’t want to here the answer to the how.’

‘No, go on. Surprise me.’

‘The sun. What you think of as the sun. It isn’t.’

‘That round yellow thing that has been in the sky throughout my life isn’t the sun?’

‘It’s bait.’

‘Bait? As in fishing?’

‘Well done. That’s exactly right.’

‘And you’re fishing?’

‘I’m a monitor.’

‘We had them at school. They brought in the milk.’

‘That’s not relevant, is it?’

‘No, I suppose not. It just popped into my head when you… look, I think I’ll get on. You’re clearly busy.’

‘I thought you wanted to see the sun set?’

‘I do. Did. But if I’ve learnt one thing in my years on this rock it’s that interacting with a loony doesn’t usually end well.’

‘I see. So when you’re confronted with the strange, what seems like the inexplicable you choose to call someone mad rather than have your assumptions tested?’

‘Yes. That’s about it.’

‘You don’t want to hear about the how, then?’

‘I’ll pass thanks. Bye, then. It’s been… interesting.’

‘Bye… Pillock.’

…

‘Hi, Glod? This is Prend. The human’s gone. You can drop the bait and we’ll see if that bloody Kraken will bite this time.’

…

‘What? The how? I thought a vaporising ray gun or a flesh eating slime might have done the trick.’

…

‘I know. I’m such a tease. Though next time can we avoid England? You never know if what they’re saying they really mean. It’s infectious.’

This was written in response to this week’s writephoto prompt

About TanGental

My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published several books: a four book series following Harry Spittle as he grows from hapless student to hapless partner in a London law firm; four others in different genres; a book of poetry; four anthologies of short fiction; and a memoir of my mother. I have several more in the pipeline. I have been blogging regularly since 2014, on topic as diverse as: poetry based on famous poems; memories from my life; my garden; my dog; a whole variety of short fiction; my attempts at baking and food; travel and the consequent disasters; theatre, film and book reviews; and the occasional thought piece. Mostly it is whatever takes my fancy. I avoid politics, mostly, and religion, always. I don't mean to upset anyone but if I do, well, sorry and I suggest you go elsewhere. These are my thoughts and no one else is to blame. If you want to nab anything I post, please acknowledge where it came from.

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