Pt. 4

(part 4 of a story. read Part 1, 2, and 3 first. Although, after re-reading them in the order in which I published them, parts 2 and 3 would do better if transposed. So read 1 first, then 3 then 2. Or don't)

On shimmering sands a shuddering man clutched the pulpy shreds sticking to his face, eyes closed and praying a child's prayer: to awake from this terrible nightmare. To open his eyes and see blankness, on his weathered floor, head shrouded beneath his cold brown curtain of crinkly comfort.

Roger's wind rushed into and out of him and soon he was dizzy from the effort. The exertion of dragging the man who refused to swim all the way to shore left his hands throbbing. His oxygen debt was compounded by the several minutes he had spent on the island screaming at the stone-still stranger before picking him up and hurling him, like so many plates before him, into the waves. As the land-mass drifted further to sea it had began to pitch, releasing huge bubbles of rancid fumes, seeming like some bloated stinking dog rolling over in the surf.

Through the fingers that held the remains of his identity tight to his cheeks, Dirvin studied his bluish companion. When Roger noticed the odd eyes peering at him, his exasperation erupted. He lifted his afflictive fingers and tore away the masking hands. With one great movement he slapped away the remnants of fibrous pulp that clung to the flinching face.
Roger stammered, transfixed by the sight, aghast, amazed.

For Dirvin Morris was the most beautiful person in the world. And as Roger opened and closed his jaw, the pain that racked his hands vanished, and the burning of his muscles dissipated, and everything seemed better in the world.

And around them, locals who had come to the beach to skip stones or paint or neck with their lovers all gathered, drawn like filings to a magnet, feeling their ailments and anguishes blowing away in Dirvin's beautiful breeze. They reveled in him, from his glorious copper hair to his now bare feet.

Before the sun could lay it's dry face into the cool relief of the horizon, the locals had whisked him into town where he was made to perch on the bandstand and remove all their sufferings with his orphic exquisiteness.