Finally looking down, I laughed aloud to see the foam-lipped rush of the tide bubbling around my feet, just as it did at any beach anywhere else in the world. It was the same gentle tide of places like Eastbourne, yet now tainted, flowing up and onto a bay made of pollution before dragging back into the sea. Less than a meter ahead of me I could see the edge of the island, the sea turning inky black and unfriendly as soon as it passed over the precipice. Shivering, I wondered how deep it was, and what number of faceless creatures lurked down there in the darkness.
Time to get the fuck out of here.
I strode up the creaking stairs of the wharf, leaving wet footprints behind me as I made my way over to the boat floating out at the end of it. It was white and coated in rust, the cabin on deck empty as I peered through the salt-crusted window. The name on the side proudly read "SS Kelly" in hand-painted and recognisable block writing, scrawled over the top of its previous name as if it had been commandeered rather than purchased.
It was as I crouched to pull at the rope securing the boat in its moorings at the rickety pier that a shadow fell over me, followed by a startlingly familiar nasal drawl.
"Are you entirely aware of how much of a bloody nuisance you are? Hmm?"
I glanced up in surprise from where I'd been examining the intricate series of knots, squinting at the green-skinned figure blotting out the brightness of the Summer sun that lit them from behind. Murdoc's talon-like nails dug into my bony shoulder as he yanked me upright, my feet leaving the wooden boards for a moment with the violent motion before I was plonked back down on the decking, toe to toe with the irritated man.
"Are you entirely aware that you need to trim ya fuckin' nails, you radge cunt?" I retorted, jerking myself from his grip to rub at the sore skin of my shoulder.
Murdoc fixed me with an unamused glare, then stepped back so that we were no longer in such close proximity as he pulled a carton of cigarettes from the back pocket of his black trousers.
"Attempting to sail away on my supply boat is really one of your dumbest ideas yet," He informed me, placing one in his mouth whilst holding out the packet in a wordless offer.
Ignoring his generosity, I felt my lips pull into a guilty grin as I conceded, "It's not even close to being my dumbest, believe me."
My words were met with only an eye roll and a small jiggle of the packet he was holding out, but I shook my head with the same sheepish grin.
"I quit a few years ago," I explained as he made a shrugging gesture and lit the end, dragging the smoke into his lungs with a ragged inhalation.
"Why? You don't exactly seem like the type for self-preservation," He asked dryly, smoke streaming from his nostrils and coiling in the air between us. The scent was immediately one of home, stirring memories both bitter and full of joy until it settled into an ache like an old friend within the space behind my ribs.
"How am I not self-preserving?" I scoffed, before grimacing as I added, "I think at a certain point in my life I just became fed up with addiction."
The green-skinned man considered my words in silence for a moment, staring out over the rough black waves that extended forever onwards toward the horizon. His lips pursed as he took another drag on the cigarette, then his hazel eyes flicked over to meet mine.
"Everyone needs a vice though," He replied simply, then grinned with the cigarette sticking out from between his teeth, "Perfection is for the gods and all their angels; the most boring bunch of wankers I've ever sat at a table with."
YOU ARE READING
The Trapeze Swinger
Fanfiction"Him. 2D. I could see him even now, his goofy grin while holding the water gun like a hunting rifle, lining me down the sight. His hands ruffling my hair, one eye closed in a squint as if sizing me up, as if looking into the sun." The year is 2003...
