Beached!

“If the word “beach” makes you think of “beached”, you must get your head examined!” exclaimed the lady who in the first place was responsible for my thinking up the word “beached” when I saw the daily post prompt “beach.”

The fact that she must watch me surreptitiously is one of the reasons why I feel beached in a house that’s at least a thousand miles away from any beach.

“And why?” I ask my jailor, swiveling my chair to face her, “why do you think that I shouldn’t have thought of the word “beached”?”

“Because “beached” means “stranded”, “marooned”, “wrecked”, “abandoned”, “left high and dry!”

I get up with the speed of light, find my wallet and my car-keys, and rush out. She’s still right behind me. At the door, I turn. Her face morphs into an island with a single palm tree, under which I see myself, watching the wreckage of the ship that I used to call my life; and her nose twists itself and transforms into a question mark. She still wants to know.

“Because of you,” I answer, ducking and scooting out of the door, and the vase crashes against the wall.

I run down the stairs, skipping alternate steps, get into the car, and start the car.

It doesn’t start.

I try again.

Instinctively I look up and see her watching me triumphantly. Suddenly and miraculously, I acquire the ability to lip-read.

 

I think you know what I read.

Written in response to today’s prompt “Beach.”

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