Love Is Never Past Tense... by Yeshanova Janna

Author:Yeshanova, Janna [Yeshanova, Janna]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
ISBN: 9780983746232
Publisher: Life-Spark, LLC
Published: 2013-04-22T16:00:00+00:00

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“One needs to die in his mother land,” the old man whispered, putting his legs on a stone. Back on the beach, he tied the stone with strong hempen ropes. Now he needed to attach his feet to these ropes. For this purpose, he chose a thin nylon twine that was easier to push under the hemp. The sun was rapidly setting. He needed the light of the slanting beams to handle this work, and not to do it by touch. He passed the twine under the hemp, then wound the end around his right ankle, stretched the cord, and again passed it under the rope. He did this until he tied it around his leg thirteen times. He chose the number thirteen because this number appeared in his life many times, and for him, it was lucky. It is difficult to explain why he decided to make it so. He was neither a superstitious nor a devout person. He simply decided to do so—that’s it. When the right leg was firmly attached, he started on the left. This business went more quickly because he already gained some experience. About ten minutes later, the left leg was attached to the stone. He fastened the end with a sea knot. The rest of the cord he cut off and threw out into the sea. His legs with veins that were dark blue even before entanglement, began to become even bluer. The blood supply had obviously worsened.

“That’s OK,” the old man calmed himself. “There is not that much left.”

The crimson sun went down to the edge of the sea. He observed the beauty of a sunset many times. But here, far from the beach, the sunset was especially impressive. It seemed that the fiery sphere was just about to touch the water and the violence of the elements would begin. It seemed the sea would begin to boil and start to extinguish the heavenly body. He even imagined that clouds of steam would rise in the sky, and looked at how fast the space becomes thinner between the bulk of the sun and the far away strip at the end of the horizon. The red rays were still trying to sink their teeth into the sea, but they reflected on the surface and left slanting lines in the sky. A bright path ran from his boat straight to the falling disk flaring from its last efforts. Black glasses allowed him to look at this miracle of nature without serious consequences. The old man began to count—two more minutes and the sun will begin to fade, somewhere there, far in the boundless waters. As soon as the sun touched the water then he, the old man, would follow it. So he envisioned. This was his plan. His algorithm of actions.

Really, he did not have time to count to a hundred. As the sun reached the horizon, the sea looked as though it began to eat the fiery sphere.

“Well that’s it, it’s time,” the old man said in a half-voice.

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