The Limited Length of Life

Sediment tickles my toes. A crab skitters past, plucking through porcelain grains, occasionally lifting a claw at the surf, which slurped away armored brethren. A rusting pick-up idles somewhere behind, beyond the grass-rimmed dunes. Sunshine attempts to penetrate my sunscreen, and finally succeeds. Two pick-ups now idle. Three. An army of fume-belching chariots coalesce into a humming horizon. Seagulls plummet from the sky, wings flapping uselessly. Streamers of sand coil upwards, embracing the falling forms.

I should stand. One of those idling cars is mine. I should remove the key, even if doing so only slightly hinders the furl of smog above. Yet what good would it do? A single engine off, while billions still rattle. The sand was a mattress more comfy than a nest of feathers. There were feathers, though. Snapping away from the dead. They scrapped at my cheeks, blisters bursting, leaking to the ground like tears. There were tears too. Many tears. No amount of liquid could compare to what would soon devour me.

My blisters healed, formed, and burst again. A cycle as continuous as the seasons. Hair grew from the sand that snuggled me, sprouting like plant growth. Dying grass lurched towards me in yearning. Soon that grass was one with the sand dunes, rising with an intensity that would not falter, unlike mankind. My face changes with the surroundings, darkens along with the sea. Since when did tides rise so high? Currents rip the sand off my legs. I try to stand, but now there is nothing to stand for.

Water inches up my waist, tauntingly slow. I struggle against the bonds that hold me before this murky atrocity, but fate cannot be escaped. Trying to look at anything except death, I stare upon the sky. The sun ensnares me with a stare more menacing than even a human would dare. A beacon watching as the byproducts of its existence become nothing again. My eyes lower with shame, and I reunite with fate. For unity would be our savior. Such a shame that it was not attained until now.

My teeth are torn away. The churning blackness nears its pinnacle, an entire globe stretching for my demise. Flecks of ash float atop the murk like maggots in dark blood. How much longer? Every second was an increment of eternity. When would I reach actual eternity? Water slithers past my lips. I suck air through a single nostril, the other clogged with grime. Death is a tickle on the nose that I cannot scratch.

I wear the ocean like a veil. Only two eyes, and a bit of nose, remain of me, poking from the sea. Enough so I could live. Enough so I could witness the senseless destruction that I wrought. No! Struggling, I refuse to let my tardy efforts be in vain. It could not end like this. Life could not end. What god would do this to His people?

No god would. This was not an act of revenge unleashed by a higher being. As I gargle upon water thicker than mud, I realize that drowning was less painful than living. I smile. This was an act of ignorance, wrought by the entire accumulation of humanity.