Ritam Nag, IX D (2019-20)
The silver moon hung like a polished shield, cutting the dark skies with its gleaming marble moonbeams. The tides clawed at the black sands, drawing closer, ever closer.
An albatross flew high above me, calling out mournfully, probably to its mate. The clouds, set ablaze with a silver fire, drifted slowly, menacingly, like the hood of a monstrous serpent, poised to strike.
I stood on the coast, my face buffeted by the nightly breeze. It seemed a peaceful night, at least so far. The clouds disagreed. Cold droplets, like quicksilver arrows, rained down on my shoulders. The breeze morphed into a wind, bringing with it a taste of cold steel and sea salt.
I twisted my head to look at the hotels on the beach. In the darkness, they seemed to be one entity: a forbidding, looming mass of seething shadows, with glowing bright eyes.
The wind howled louder, thrashing viciously against its bonds. Meanwhile, the sea crept closer, ever closer, its patience wearing thin.
In a flash, foamy claws swiped at the sands, coiling watery talons around my feet. They dragged me down to my knees; wet sand and hungry tides sucked at me. Seized with panic, I struggled against my liquid cage, breaking free and scrambling madly up the beach to the resort. The wind, however, had unfinished business. A shrieking swathe of air swept me aside, laughing sadistically at my feeble attempts to get to my feet. Sand blew in my eyes.
A flash of light lit up the skies, casting deathly shadows on the storm clouds. Lightning ran across the great blue canvas, like long rivers of fire burning in amongst the stars. The screaming started. It wasn’t the wind, it wasn’t the sea: it was people. Other moonlight-loving tourists had been swept up in the storm. The full moon was almost invisible now, hooded by a net woven from mist, lightning and clouds.
Somewhere off in the distance, glass shattered. The screaming intensified. It was a horrible orchestra- wailing civilians screeching pitifully, whilst being goaded on by the sharpened trident prongs of the storm. All the while, I could do little but be swept out to sea.
The storm’s howl rose to a crescendo. The rain battered my body like war hammers, and the screeching wind stabbed needles of pain into my eardrums. I lost grip on the shifting sands and was smashed ruthlessly against the beach rocks. Darkness engulfed me as I blacked out.
When I came to, it was dawn. The sun cast its feeble rays over the landscape, tinting everything with rose and indigo. The obsidian sky was now ivory, washed with golden flames.
I got to my feet slowly.
My skull ached. Blood trickled down from my head, forming a warm pool around my body. As my weary eyes roved around the landscape, they picked up the carnage wrought by the storm- shattered glass littered the streets, palm trees lay uprooted, cars had been wrecked and overturned.
The bodies of the dead lay strewn on the sands, with the sun and the sky to guard their eternal sleep.
My knees buckled. I collapsed. My head tipped backwards, and I met the gaze of the sky.
An albatross flew high overhead, calling out mournfully, probably to a mate who would never answer again.
