Parabola

Parabola

Turles sighed and pinched the lobe of his ear. Maybe he was paranoid, because the ocean that he stared at didn’t look real. But, he’s still here and the water that was a dark blue moved with a wind that he couldn’t feel. He must remind himself of this.

He looked up into the cloudy sky above and saw a black crescent moon, and it nerved him about how very odd that was. This moon… his confidant. Treading along the beach shore line, he wondered if there used to be children that played on this sandy land mass.

“Dead souls,” he mumbled.

Turles knew at one point in time the pieces fit like a perfect puzzle, but he watched them all fall away. Now, there was a hole in his soul, so he listened and learned. It was like rediscovering communication.

Nine and two quarters, he thought. Maybe the puzzle in his head will be put back together and he can stop wondering why he was here in this overwhelmingly warm place. Looking back at the black sliver that hung from the sky, he silently questioned his heritage.