Predators

The houses are solemn, the street is empty and quiet. I strike out towards the beach, my feet thudding rhythmically upon the black asphalt of the avenue until I reach the sidewalk stretching along the camel colored sands. The sky is overcast and I am struck by so much gray, the hazy heavens above, the concrete below and a steely chain link fence bordering the walkway.

At the first post of the fence, where the street meets the sidewalk, I pass a woman with long dark hair and a similarly featured little girl. I look into the woman’s eyes as I pass.

There is a predatorial, reptilian quality to the way they size me up, dilated pupils and green irises fixed on my passage.

As I walk, I realize the little girl has stepped onto the sidewalk and is trailing behind me. She is just a little girl, I tell myself, but I feel fearful, I am being stalked. I walk faster and in return her pace is hastened. I break into a run, part from the walkway to plod through the sand. It slows me down, absorbs the shock of my footfall as the grain shift around my bare toes and heels. The girl pursues me, her mother lingering in the distance, keeping track of the hunt. The dark and white crested surf licks at the shore with a constant murmur, reaching out from a black horizon. I veer towards it, an escape plan working it’s way into muscular action.