Read Online The Thing on the Shore by Tom Fletcher - Free Book Online
Authors: Tom Fletcher
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additional low wall protecting the edge of the higher level also. The lighthouse was white with a red door and a red balcony around the top of it, and it looked bright and vibrant against the angry sky. Water pooled in the dips and hollows of the stone surface on which Bony and Arthur stood. The broken remnants of mammoth waves surged around beneath the structure, indicative of the peaks and troughs of the ocean still hidden by the higher levels of the West Pier.
âReady?â shouted Arthur.
Bony nodded in response, despite Arthurâs words being snatched away by the wind as soon as theyâd left his mouth. They lowered their heads and slowly approached the base of the steps. There was a rusted yet sturdy metal railing which they held on to as they ascended, and they kept their heads bowed beneath the weight of the weather. To their left, the lighthouse seemed like some kind of magical monument, glowing white and streaming with liquid. They eventually reached the upper level on all fours, with waves constantly collapsing over the low wall that separated them from the sea. They crawled toward the wall, the lighthouse behind them now, their hands and knees submerged in the restless water hissing across thestonework. When they got to the wall, they turned and sat with their backs resting against it. This was the same spot where, on friendlier days, fishermen would stand with their rods and eat their sandwiches and gut fish and leave the entrails lying around to stink in the sun.
Bony and Arthur glanced at each other, then turned so that both were on their knees facing the wall. Slowly they gripped the top of the wall with their hands and raised their heads above it to look out to sea.
They saw a landscape, not a seascape. They saw mountains and valleys, as if they were looking at an aerial photograph of the central Lake District. Except everything was moving. The mountains were rolling along and then subsiding and then leaping up again, and in between them were cavernous hollows that deepened and deepened, like there was no limit to the depth they might achieve. The peaks would roll in and smash against the fortress-like structure of the West Pier, spraying the exhilarated pairâs faces with their shattered remnants. And already there would be replacement peaks spawning a long way out, growing impossibly huge, racing with fantastic speed toward the shore, toward the town, toward the land, toward Arthur and Bony with their little wet faces like two smiling, stupid peaches just waiting to be swallowed up. The heights and depths of the water were astounding and terrifying, and this turbulence stretched for as far as their eyes could see, before being obscured by veils of sheeting rain. Somewhere above the clouds, thunder roared as some forgotten god stamped its feet. And thesky would flash as lightning lit up the clouds from the inside. Arthur and Bony looked at each other, nodded, and raised themselves a little higher. They wormed themselves forward so that they were looking directly down into the water, each bent over at the waist to ninety degrees.
Arthur studied the green hell beneath him. He blew a kiss downward. He felt as if his mother were closer to him when the weather was like this. He had this idea that she would be nearer the surface, though he knew this was ridiculous. He knew that wasnât how it worked. The ocean broke bodies down into nothing and spread them out across the Earth. He knew that. But he still couldnât help looking for her.
He let himself slip backward, back toward the relative shelter of the wall, and raised his head so that he could see further. If this was
Shadow of the Colossus
, then he was the Wanderer. He was exploring an abandoned world, discovering architecture built for giants, and every now and again one of those giants would rise up from the surrounding environment and look down at him with glowing eyes. He wanted it to happen now. He wanted some huge creature to
âReady?â shouted Arthur.
Bony nodded in response, despite Arthurâs words being snatched away by the wind as soon as theyâd left his mouth. They lowered their heads and slowly approached the base of the steps. There was a rusted yet sturdy metal railing which they held on to as they ascended, and they kept their heads bowed beneath the weight of the weather. To their left, the lighthouse seemed like some kind of magical monument, glowing white and streaming with liquid. They eventually reached the upper level on all fours, with waves constantly collapsing over the low wall that separated them from the sea. They crawled toward the wall, the lighthouse behind them now, their hands and knees submerged in the restless water hissing across thestonework. When they got to the wall, they turned and sat with their backs resting against it. This was the same spot where, on friendlier days, fishermen would stand with their rods and eat their sandwiches and gut fish and leave the entrails lying around to stink in the sun.
Bony and Arthur glanced at each other, then turned so that both were on their knees facing the wall. Slowly they gripped the top of the wall with their hands and raised their heads above it to look out to sea.
They saw a landscape, not a seascape. They saw mountains and valleys, as if they were looking at an aerial photograph of the central Lake District. Except everything was moving. The mountains were rolling along and then subsiding and then leaping up again, and in between them were cavernous hollows that deepened and deepened, like there was no limit to the depth they might achieve. The peaks would roll in and smash against the fortress-like structure of the West Pier, spraying the exhilarated pairâs faces with their shattered remnants. And already there would be replacement peaks spawning a long way out, growing impossibly huge, racing with fantastic speed toward the shore, toward the town, toward the land, toward Arthur and Bony with their little wet faces like two smiling, stupid peaches just waiting to be swallowed up. The heights and depths of the water were astounding and terrifying, and this turbulence stretched for as far as their eyes could see, before being obscured by veils of sheeting rain. Somewhere above the clouds, thunder roared as some forgotten god stamped its feet. And thesky would flash as lightning lit up the clouds from the inside. Arthur and Bony looked at each other, nodded, and raised themselves a little higher. They wormed themselves forward so that they were looking directly down into the water, each bent over at the waist to ninety degrees.
Arthur studied the green hell beneath him. He blew a kiss downward. He felt as if his mother were closer to him when the weather was like this. He had this idea that she would be nearer the surface, though he knew this was ridiculous. He knew that wasnât how it worked. The ocean broke bodies down into nothing and spread them out across the Earth. He knew that. But he still couldnât help looking for her.
He let himself slip backward, back toward the relative shelter of the wall, and raised his head so that he could see further. If this was
Shadow of the Colossus
, then he was the Wanderer. He was exploring an abandoned world, discovering architecture built for giants, and every now and again one of those giants would rise up from the surrounding environment and look down at him with glowing eyes. He wanted it to happen now. He wanted some huge creature to
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