had such interruptions again.
Edsel felt the surge of adrenaline and the quickening of his heart make the decorative Ink erupt to new levels of pain, the extra blood acting as a catalyst for the white hot mist that flowed through the blue veins that weren't veins.
What the hell is this? What's it for?
Everything felt displaced, as if he was there but not there, calm yet angry, neither happy or sad. The lull of the still sea and the cloudless blue sky enveloped him in a silent embrace that took something away from him, offering nothing in return.
Edsel padded back to the sofa, half catatonic, hardly aware of himself, and sat down just before he fell asleep.
He'd been doing the same thing for days, he just didn't remember.
He was a man lost to himself, lost to time; lost to the world once more.
SAND
It had been days, weeks or months — Edsel had no idea. He didn't care, he was empty of feelings, hardly even remembering he once had emotions.
Edsel lay on the sand of the small beach that ran the length of the marina before disappearing around a narrow headland that jutted out like a skin tag, staring at the flawless sky. He watched the seagulls as they fought and called to each other, tracing their movements as they came and went from his line of vision, never moving his head, just laying there spread-eagled as the waves lapped gently at his feet, his body burning under the strong summer sun, neither caring or feeling as his skin burned and peeled from the damage. All apart from his new Ink, brighter than the sea, seemingly inured to any kind of external influence, as much a part of him as the layers it hid, a marked man once more.
Alone. Again.
Edsel was as one with the air and the water. Blue, always blue. It was all there was. The sky never seemed to have a cloud, the sea never stirred, only the tide rose and fell, in tune with Edsel's breathing. He was as slow as a tortoise, a non-being, part of his environment; just a thing, no longer a man able to think of vengeance.
All was emptiness.
His hand clawed at dry sand. It rose up in front of his face where it slowly opened, letting the grains trickle onto his chest, covering the flesh where short hairs were emerging, the blue raised spirals proud against the fine layer of yellow — particles that contained the history of the planet, lifeforms in their trillions crushed by the passage of time, now something else. Something and nothing.
Blue fingers played with the tiny grains, until soon they too were gone. The hand held nothing; it dropped back to his side.
Edsel's far away mind was as empty as the sky; no thoughts could stay there. He was a creature that abandoned the safety and security of its shell so now there was nothing left but a fleshy lump without its home or previous life. Ice and fire and dizzying patterns he no longer looked at or cared about took over his reality, yet they too faded into dreams. His mind was dulled, a patient with a heavy dose of nothingness to displace the sense of total loss.
Pain was slowly receding, coming in increasing intervals. He could even forget about them for a while, but as soon as he thought about Michael, his Ink, or Lash and Aiden, the pain would rip through his body and he had to close down his mind or risk going completely insane. He knew he was close to the edge and thinking was going to push him over, never to return.
Such bouts were seldom though, most of him simply stayed in emptiness, watching without much curiosity as a part of him awoke to anger and feeling for a while, before joining him in watching from a distance once more.
The sun shone down, day after day, like the endless summers of his youth where only the good days were remembered, the rest discarded as if they never even happened.
Maybe they didn't.
So he lay on the beach, doing nothing, letting the sun heat his body, the water wash his feet, the sand irritate his already abraded skin. Salt crusted his flesh, magnifying the
Edsel felt the surge of adrenaline and the quickening of his heart make the decorative Ink erupt to new levels of pain, the extra blood acting as a catalyst for the white hot mist that flowed through the blue veins that weren't veins.
What the hell is this? What's it for?
Everything felt displaced, as if he was there but not there, calm yet angry, neither happy or sad. The lull of the still sea and the cloudless blue sky enveloped him in a silent embrace that took something away from him, offering nothing in return.
Edsel padded back to the sofa, half catatonic, hardly aware of himself, and sat down just before he fell asleep.
He'd been doing the same thing for days, he just didn't remember.
He was a man lost to himself, lost to time; lost to the world once more.
SAND
It had been days, weeks or months — Edsel had no idea. He didn't care, he was empty of feelings, hardly even remembering he once had emotions.
Edsel lay on the sand of the small beach that ran the length of the marina before disappearing around a narrow headland that jutted out like a skin tag, staring at the flawless sky. He watched the seagulls as they fought and called to each other, tracing their movements as they came and went from his line of vision, never moving his head, just laying there spread-eagled as the waves lapped gently at his feet, his body burning under the strong summer sun, neither caring or feeling as his skin burned and peeled from the damage. All apart from his new Ink, brighter than the sea, seemingly inured to any kind of external influence, as much a part of him as the layers it hid, a marked man once more.
Alone. Again.
Edsel was as one with the air and the water. Blue, always blue. It was all there was. The sky never seemed to have a cloud, the sea never stirred, only the tide rose and fell, in tune with Edsel's breathing. He was as slow as a tortoise, a non-being, part of his environment; just a thing, no longer a man able to think of vengeance.
All was emptiness.
His hand clawed at dry sand. It rose up in front of his face where it slowly opened, letting the grains trickle onto his chest, covering the flesh where short hairs were emerging, the blue raised spirals proud against the fine layer of yellow — particles that contained the history of the planet, lifeforms in their trillions crushed by the passage of time, now something else. Something and nothing.
Blue fingers played with the tiny grains, until soon they too were gone. The hand held nothing; it dropped back to his side.
Edsel's far away mind was as empty as the sky; no thoughts could stay there. He was a creature that abandoned the safety and security of its shell so now there was nothing left but a fleshy lump without its home or previous life. Ice and fire and dizzying patterns he no longer looked at or cared about took over his reality, yet they too faded into dreams. His mind was dulled, a patient with a heavy dose of nothingness to displace the sense of total loss.
Pain was slowly receding, coming in increasing intervals. He could even forget about them for a while, but as soon as he thought about Michael, his Ink, or Lash and Aiden, the pain would rip through his body and he had to close down his mind or risk going completely insane. He knew he was close to the edge and thinking was going to push him over, never to return.
Such bouts were seldom though, most of him simply stayed in emptiness, watching without much curiosity as a part of him awoke to anger and feeling for a while, before joining him in watching from a distance once more.
The sun shone down, day after day, like the endless summers of his youth where only the good days were remembered, the rest discarded as if they never even happened.
Maybe they didn't.
So he lay on the beach, doing nothing, letting the sun heat his body, the water wash his feet, the sand irritate his already abraded skin. Salt crusted his flesh, magnifying the
Similar Books
