Swan Song

The old man walked along the coast, alone. He was snug inside his thick coat, hands shoved deep inside his pockets. There was a growing hole in the right one, where the corner of a cigarette pack used to dig.

He looked out to the ocean beside him as he walked, admiring the endless sea of blue. He had not meant to be so solitary that day, but the coast was not the ideal place to visit during the winter, what with the cold waters and the chilly breeze. It was just him and the ocean.

He let out a breath, visible and white as the clouds that swarmed above. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he rubbed them together and blew into them, cupping them over his nose and mouth to warm his face. He hadn’t quite anticipated how cold it would be, but he was used to the cold. He’d spent half his life cold.

It was not quiet out; in fact, it was quite noisy. The waves were tossing high and frothy, the wind ripping through the air like a knife against paper.

But it was peaceful. Not empty, but not full. Enough.

Until it was not. He glanced up and saw that he was not quite alone after all.

On a tall rock jutting out of the water a while away, stood a young woman, a younger man struggling to find his grip on the smooth rock as he tried to reach her.

The old man stopped walking, watching as the other man gave up trying and seemingly began to persuade the woman to come down instead. The woman seemed oblivious to his words. She turned slightly, and the old man was struck with her appearance.

The woman’s hair framed her face in dark curls that fell to her shoulders, her skin pale and pristine. Her eyes were as dark and endless, and even from a distance, the old man could sense the sadness in them. She looked down at her companion, and she spoke.

To the old man’s surprise, he could hear her voice as clearly as if she were standing right by him, whispering in his ear.

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle. She sounded slightly confused, and at the same time, curious. There was something oddly familiar about it.

As if the sound of her voice had sparked a sudden magic in the air, the old man could hear the young man’s response.

“I’m trying to get up,” he said, with a hint of irritation. “Please come back down. You could fall.”

The young woman frowned. The old man could feel the confusion in her expression, almost as if it were his own.

“But where are you going?” she said.

The young man stopped struggling and looked up at her, irritation gone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The woman was silent for a moment. Then she walked over to him, knelt down, and held out her hand. “Come here,” she said. “With me.”

He looked at her hands as if unsure what to do with them. Slowly, he took it, and with both their efforts, he made it onto the rock.

“Stand here with me,” she said, leading him to the tip of the rock. They stood there, hand in hand, staring out to the open sea.

The two of them seemed unruffled by the cold. They were not even wearing coats. The breeze that caressed their clothes and hair didn’t seem to be the same chilly breeze that made the old man feel bitterly cold.

He was not sure why he was still watching them. Perhaps he was odd; perhaps he was strange. But he could not tear his eyes away. Something begged him to look.

After a long moment, the woman turned to face the man. “I must go now,” she said. She spoke calmly, barely moving.

“Don’t go,” said the young man, his voice barely a whisper. The words were laced with a sort of frantic desperation. “Just stay a little longer.”

“I must go now,” she said again, but the old man saw the young shake her hand gently where he held it. She looked out to the sea again, letting the crashing waves fill the silence where she did not speak.

Then, softly, “I am not coming back.”

The man shushed her, but gently, like a mother hushing a sleepy child. “Don’t say anything.” There was no more desperation, only a low and seeping sadness that seemed to make his whole body wilt.

Finally, the woman said, “Close your eyes.”

For some reason, the old man felt himself following the woman’s command, shutting his own eyes. There was nothing in the vast emptiness behind his closed lids.

There was a strange feeling. It felt as if a part of him was slipping away. For a moment, he was struck by fear, clutching at his heart so it skipped a beat, and he could not breathe. But then, slowly, the strange feeling sunk deep into him and seemed to replace something missing. Something was still missing, but he found that it didn’t bother him very much now.

He opened his eyes. It felt right to do so.

The woman had disappeared from the rock. The young man was standing alone, looking down into the water below him.

He stood there for a while, unmoving. Then, he turned and looked straight at the old man. He looked sad but also calm, as the woman had. He didn’t seem surprised that the old man was staring back at him.

They were still, both staring at one another. In the young man’s eyes, the old man felt a strange sort of comfort.

Then the young man turned back to the water. Slowly, very slowly, he stepped off the rock and slipped into the water.

The old man waited a moment, but neither the man nor the woman resurfaced.

And after waiting a long while, he turned and continued walking.