1. The Artist's Nocturne
by C.A. Shoultz
Upon the beach so quietly, the waves proceeded, pushing, pressing just so softly up the sandy
shore. The town's gentle illuminance was far off in the distance, a feathered haze of gold against the
night. The stars were the true lighting, a multitude of them, a chorus infinite. They spangled all the
sky and turned the black to sapphire. They turned the waters deeper blue than ever they had been in
day.
Or so it seemed to Stephen, standing with his shoes off in the sand. He was just close enough
that water was now lapping at his toes. Inward came the tide with cold incessance. Stephen breathed
out through his puckered mouth. He could not see his breath, but it was chilly nonetheless. He
burrowed with his shoulders in his heavy cardigan. The night was wearing, and the drink that had put
fire in his veins was only embers now inside him. And yet he welcomed his growing sobriety. His
mind was once more sharp and could reflect upon his pain.
He could still feel her. Still recall the special smooth grain of her skin against his own. He
breathed out through his nose and rubbed his knuckles up against it. That touch of skin on skin awoke
again a flame inside his heart. Still so close and still so clear, for all the weeks that had passed by. The
waves were at his feet now, cold and wet against his skin which only made his chest burn that much
more. Still he saw her, milky skin and hair like autumn's orange.
Yet all of it was ghosts. She'd left him, as he'd known she would some day. That did of course
not make her parting any easier to bear. His sigh was rough and roaring, grinding from his lungs into
the cool night air. The pain was not so sharp now but the distance turned it from a searing to a
throbbing, and that made it much harder to ignore. He had begun to mark her absence in the smallest
things- the empty seats beside him in the pubs, the lack of one more pair of footsteps beside his, the end
of the necessity to leave the house with two umbrellas. Stephen growled again. He felt most bestial
tonight.
The ocean swam off infinite before him. The tide was surging closer, closer, lapping now
against the bottom of his heels. His mind, always at work, was struck by wondering at what the ocean
might be as a woman. She would be supernatural, but of course. No normal woman could be the
Atlantic, and even an extraordinary woman would not measure up in physical proportion. She'd be a
titan, round of hip and billowing of bosom. Her skin would be as black as night, but also subject to the
finest sheen of excellent nutrition. The night above would be her hair, the stars in it the waves as it
cascaded down her back. Her eyes would be like stars as well, shiny blue and ever-bright.
“How would she feel?” he asked aloud. Cold and distant, yet alive, he answered in his mind.
“Would she be much for hand-holding?” With some men, certainly. But not with all. “For kissing
deeply, with one's tongue?” Absolutely. More for that than hand-holding.
The ocean rolled and shook in breakers crashing into rocks much farther down the coast. Here
the water still was soft, though its noise was inescapable.
“Might she approach me first? Could any woman be that bold?” If any woman could, I could.
“Could I tolerate that? Does my manhood appreciate it?” Yours would learn to, for in all matters I
would be excellent. “A good lover, then?” Unlike any in this world.
The tide was pushing further up the beach, bathing his bare feet in finest foam.
“What would you want for breakfast when we're done? The morning after, I mean.”
Something strong and spicy. Eggs with pepper and some sausage.
“I suppose you'd make me cook it.”
Yes, but I'd have bought enough for both of us the day before. I'd also make us coffee.
“How do you take it?”
Black as pitch.
Stephen's pale and callused hand came grasping through the air. He pictured how her fingers

2. might feel curled up inside his. They would be long, and not the smoothest, but their touch would have
the energy of suns.
We would go walking once breakfast was done.
“Indeed we would. We'd be in Dublin, of course.”
Nowhere else, and you'd show me around.
“Only certain spots. Monkstown, certainly, and Blackrock Park as well. We'd keep along the
coast, I know you'd like that.”
Would I? I should love to see the drier parts. Something hot and dusty with the bubble of the
crowd.
“You'd be far out of your element.”
Not when I'm with you.
He was breathing harder, hot and fierce. The night had seemed to grow much darker, though
the stars were shining as before.
“I should take you round to all my friends- to show you off, of course.”
And I would play my part. I'd smile and laugh and swing my hips, all to make you seem the
luckiest of men.
“We'd get a drink at Davy Byrne's, once the sun was setting.”
I'd guzzle it, for I'm a thirsty girl. And then we'd go into a quiet place and make love for the
last time.
Stephen's body hitched hard forward. “Last time?”
You must have known I couldn't stay.
“But you're eternal. You have always been and always will be.”
But that is why I cannot stay. It would not do for any mortal man to be the Ocean's endless
lover. I must all day wash in and out across the world. I know so many people, in so many different
ways. And I must be a girl all people know in turn. So I cannot pledge myself to one man in particular.
“We could make arrangements.”
Nothing that would work. Besides, I cannot be entrapped. I could be with you always, and then
what would happen to the many that still need me? You are a temptation I cannot afford.
“So we couldn't even see each other every now and then?”
“No... we could not.”
Stephen snapped his head back and then spun himself around. He swore he'd heard a voice.
The tide had totally come in; he was up to his ankles in salt water. He noticed that his shoes were
washing out to sea. With a cry he hurried after them, and just managed to keep them from being
carried away. They were totally soaked and filled with sand. His socks were gone.
He clutched a shoe in each wet hand. He gripped them tighter, squeezing out the wetness to the
best of his abilities. He glanced out at the dark and rolling waves. A surge of something welled up in
his heart. He raised the shoes above his head. “You can't have them!” he shouted. “They wouldn't fit
you anyway!”
END