Second January Blog

Second January Blog.

Surging Tides.

Waves lash the deserted shore,
Gulls hovering, riding the wind,
Screeching as they dive for fish,
Or scrabble amongst each other
For a piece of fish, a muscle, clam.

Foam flecks the pebbled beach,
Its bubbling sound fizzes
Like a lemonade bottle just opened.
Then crackles against flotsam.
Rough branches, ripped and tossed
In the tide, dig sand depressions,
Circles, shaped by ocean currents.

Winds whistle, straffing across dunes.
Eddies of sand puff into the air,
Strewn across ridges, clinging
To dune grass, yellowed by sun,
Blown by gales.

This is the unquiet sea,
An ocean of tides dragged
By Lunar forces, this way,
That way, carving out coastal patterns,
Determining where land resists
The pull of oceanic forces.
The Master of This World.

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. January, 2016.

Buried Treasure. ( part 3)

“I’m D. I. Mathers. Who phoned the Police?”
Mary stepped forward towards the man. He was not wearing a uniform. “I did,” she admitted.
“Right,” said the detective. “Now, please tell me what you saw and anything that you can think of that might help.”

Mary started telling D. I. Mathers about seeing sonething shining, scraping away some sand and finding the hand. He also took her details, then questioned the man, whose name turned out to be David Reed.

“Do you often walk on this beach, Mr Reed?”

“Yes detective, very often. Connie, my dog, likes a good run every day, when the weather is amenable.”

Mathers eyes were flint-hard as David Reed told how he walked his dog along these sands more often than not. Looking from Mary to David, Mathers took in their expressions as they spoke. Their demeanour, assessing the truth of their statements.

Connie started to get agirated. She still had plenty of energy as their walk had been cut short. Whining, twisting the leash, getting entangled in Mary’s legs, Connie wax a bundle of activity. Mary almost fell over in her avoidance the leash, of falling onto the sand and trying to miss falling on Connie.

“Naughty girl,” said David sharply, tugging on the leash. Connie quieted, sat beside his feet, bur her tail still wagged, just a little! “That’s better. Are you alright Mary?” He looked a bit sheepish, she thought as he used her first name. But she really didn’t mind. Dogs were a good way to gt acquainted, she mused to herself, and he seemed like a nice man.

D. I. Mathers had stepped back to where the sand was being carefully dug out. There wasn’t a lot of space, and the tide was creeping in. The special team were under pressure to remove the remains before the sea obliterated the scene. They worked faster than normal under these extenuating circumstances. The water would very soon wash away any evidence, if there was any, so speed was vital.

Mary Dean and David Read, plus Connie, his dog, walked back along the beach towards the next set of steps. It was about half the distance they had both walked before, but higher up, nearer the sea wall. Though this part of the beach was wider, it would still be covered at high tide. Mary could not resust looking over her right shoulder, along the sea wall to the vans and cars where police and mortuary people fussed around, getting the find safely hidden. Though by now, she saw that a small ctowd of onlookers had been cordoned off.

“The sea has lmost reached the wall,” David said. “I hope they got everything out.” Connie sniffed around by the handrail, seeking out the scent of strange dogs. “Stop that, Connie!” David gave her leash a small yank. It had been an upsetting day for his dog. Him too. But, he had met Mary. He appreciated meeting new people. Life lately had become stale. Same thing, day after day. “Would you like to go for a cup of tea. or coffee? You must be a bit chill now, standing on the beach longer perhaps than you intended?”

“Well, that would be nice. All this has unsettled me a little. Thank you. Will your dog be alright?”

“Oh yes, there is a small cafe we often stop at. They don’t mind my bringing my dog inside on a rough day. Here, take my arm to cross the road. Not that I think you are infirm or anything,” David assured her, ” it’s just that these police vehicles are moving this way.”

Mary took his arm. They had just passed the centre of the road when an ambulance and police car rushed past them, driving towards Seaton Villlage. “That was a near thing,” burst out Mary.”

They all hopped onto the pavement. Connie had started yapping again at all the hassle. “It’s just along here,” David told. Mary. She remembered the place from some years ago when she walked this area more often. They turned into the side road where the cafe kept a couple of tables in ftont of the glass. It was a bit windy today though so they went inside.

David ordered tea for both of them and an extra cup in a bowl for Connie. “Nice and hot. I bought a bun each. I exoect your’re a bit peckish now?”

Mary nodded, a light smile on her face. She rubbed Connie’s neck to settle her down. Removing her gloves, she rubbed her hands to remove the chill. David passed the sugar and milk, then poured from the pot. “Hmmm! Just what the doctor ordered,” Mary told him.

So far, so good?

Stay safe. Keep warm, or cool. Enjoy life as much as you can.


Connie the dog
Mary Dean. Heroine
David Reed. He
D. I. Mathers ( police dete

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