Original Story - An Autumn Walk On The Beach
(Images from Pixabay: Durham Coast by urtimudd89, and genie lamp by OpenClipart-Vectors)
Snug in her long, cream puffer coat, she ventured onto the sand in her leather knee-high boots, and stood close to the water’s edge, just out of reach of the waves. She squinted; the bitter sting of the cold wind seemed to be trying to strip away the layers of plastic falsehoods that were part of her life.
Yet again, the persistent thought commanded her attention, and she frowned. After so many years of struggling and perservering against numerous setbacks, she finally had everything she’d ever wanted. But, instead of feeling satisfied, triumphant that she’d finally made it, all she felt was empty, unfulfilled.
Turning to look down the length of the beach, blinking against the wind, she saw no one else. Standing on an empty beach on a grey, autumn day… “It feels like I’m the only person alive,” she whispered, smiling even though she felt no amusement.
The was no sound apart from the almost hypnotic sound of the waves. Finding the silence unsettling, she continued to speak out loud. “Wonder what that would be like, just me, only me. No one to answer to, no one to please, no endless demands… no pretending like I enjoy the constant attention everywhere I go.”
With a sigh, she began to walk, her steps ungainly on the sand. “I could give it all up, shut it all down. Disappear.” She stared at the churning waves, then laughed. “Who am I kidding? Face it, Amber, you love your luxuries too much. As for being on your own…” A snorting giggle escaped her. “You can’t even manage this silence. Face facts, you’d never survive without people. Who do you think follows your socials? Dogs?”
Sighing heavily, she continued walking, every now and again, kicking at small sand mounds. Her booted foot connected with an object; she stumbled. Catching herself in time, her gaze followed the object as it flew forward to land a few yards ahead.
Curiosity caused her to quicken her pace. Inclining her body forward slightly, she stared at the object before straightening up. Hands on hips, she muttered, “Are you kidding me?” Gingerly, she plucked it from the sand, holding it between thumb and forefinger even though she was wearing gloves.
It was a lamp, but not some cheap, plastic thing for she could feel its weightiness. It was brass, like in the fairy tale. Using her teeth to remove her other glove, she flicked her nail against the lamp. It gave off a satisfying bell-like tone.
She looked up and down the beach, but she was still alone. Pursing her lips, she turned the lamp this way and that. Apart from a patchy covering of wet sand, it didn’t look damaged. She started to brush the sand off then paused as a thought presented itself. Giggling, she said, “Why not?”
Grasping the lamp firmly, she vigorously rubbed it then held it away from her body, holding her breath in anticipation. Her shoulders sagged when nothing happened. Even though no one had witnessed the moment, she still felt stupid. And that annoyed her.
Turning to face the sea, she noticed the breeze had dropped. The stillness only lasted a moment before the wind picked up again, strong enough to whip her hair this way and that. She flinched as the ends of her hair lashed the side of her face.
Frowning, Amber glanced up at the dark clouds above her, which seemed to have come out of nowhere but were already beginning to disperse. She drew her arm back to throw the lamp into the sea simply because it had disappointed her.
“Has my master no wish to demand of me?”
A cry leapt from Amber; her heart thumped against her chest. The lamp fell from her hand. For some reason, she didn’t dare turn around.
“You are my master, yes?” The voice was pleasant, unmistakably feminine with an accent Amber didn’t recognise.
Swallowing hard, Amber forced herself to turn.
Standing before her was a diminutive woman dressed in loose trousers, a fitted cropped top, and, draped over her long dark hair, a diaphanous shawl which hung down almost to her ankles.
“Where did you, why are you dressed like that?”
“This is how I am always dressed.” She bowed. “Now you have summoned me, what does my master require?”
Aware her mouth was hanging open, Amber promptly shut it. “What do you mean, I summoned you?”
“You rubbed the lamp.”
Amber blinked slowly. “You, you came out of…” She glanced at the lamp, lying in the sand by her feet. “… that?”
“Yes.” The mysterious woman’s tone remained as neutral as when she’d first spoken.
“So, you’re a.” Amber’s gaze kept flicking away from the woman as she struggled to say the word. “A genie?”
“Yes.”
“A wish-granting genie?”
“Yes.”
Turning to face the sea, Amber shook her head. “I’m still in bed, I must be. I’m still asleep, having a weird dream about walking on the beach, finding a lamp and talking to a genie.” Pushing up her coat sleeve, she pinched herself on the arm. And yelped.
A little embarrassed, she turned back to find the genie still there. “Well,” she said with a smile, “if this is a dream, what the hell? So, how many wishes do I get?”
“Three, master.”
“Of course. It’s always three, isn’t it. Okay… I wish for.” She raised a brow. “A cream Birkin handbag.”
“As my master wishes.”
A cream leather handbag with a gold clasp and lock appeared, hanging from Amber’s arm. She let out a squeal of disbelief. “No way!” Stroking the bag, she couldn’t believe how buttery soft the leather was. Then she reminded herself that anything was possible in a dream.
Grinning at the genie, she said, “Second wish.”
For the first time, the genie’s expression changed. Her smoky dark eyes widened. “Master does not have to wish again so soon.”
“No, no, there’s no need to wait. Let’s see. Oh, oh. A Tiffany bangle, white gold with diamonds.” She extended her right hand.
“As my master wishes.”
A sparkling bangle adorned Amber’s slender wrist.
“Perfect.” She turned her wrist this way and that. “So realistic,” she murmured, impressed at the clarity of her dream. Fixing her gaze on the genie, she said, “Now, for number three.”
The genie’s shock was evident. “Master. There is no need to rush, I implore you.”
“Might as well,” said Amber, shrugging. “Before I wake up.”
Frowning, the genie tilted her head. “Wake up?”
Amber ignored her as she pondered her final wish. Her earlier thought crept to the fore. “No one to answer to,” she whispered, “no one to please.” Slowly nodding, she said, “I wish, I wish for those who are always around me, Damien, Nikki, Michelle, Spencer…” She named her fiancée, her best friend and other friends who were also her staff. “… to disappear out of my life.”
The genie stared, silent.
“Well?”
“Master,” she whispered, “do not–”
“That’s my wish. You have to obey me, right?”
With a heavy sigh, the genie hung her head. “As my master wishes.” Her words were barely audible.
The world went dark and still, then breathed again.
“It is done,” said the genie, sadness clouding her gaze. “My duty to you is done. Farewell.” She dissipated as if made of mist.
Amber’s smile faltered as an unexpected chill enveloped her. Shrugging, she admired her bracelet and handbag. “Wonder when I’ll wake up.” She looked back the way she’d come. “Or is walking back to the apartment part of the dream?” Chuckling, she stared to walk.
The closer she got, the harder it became to ignore the fluttering in her belly. Muttering at the weirdness of her dream she felt an inexplicable need to quicken her pace.
As she got closer to the apartment, which overlooked the sea, she could no longer ignore the finger of ice that traced a slow line down her spine. Running up the stairs, she turned the handle, but the door was locked. Fumbling in her jeans pocket, she pulled the key out, unlocked the door and almost fell in.
“Damien?” she called. “I’m back.”
Silence.
Running to the bedroom, she stared. It was empty. The bag fell from her grasp as she realised the only things in the room were hers... nothing that belonged to her fiancée.
Backing out, she stumbled to the main room, the dining room, the kitchen. Again, only her things. The framed photos were of her, only her in the different tourist spots, the ones she’d visited with Damien and Nikki. But there was no evidence of the selfies they’d taken together.
Dread crept over her as she pulled out her phone and began to shakily scroll through the numbers. A whimper escaped her. No Damien. No Nikki or Michelle, no Spencer. None of her friends. Her breathing quickened. She dropped the phone.
“Oh wait,” she said, blinking rapidly. “It’s okay, it’s a dream. I’ll wake up soon.” She tried to laugh. But her lower lip trembled, and tears trickled down her cheeks.