A man

There once lived a man in a cave by the sea. He feared the waves and the moon, and thought the sand was like golden hands that held him fast. He craved to see the big trees of the forests far, but could never get himself to wander off farther than some hundred steps from his cold, dry, dark dwelling.

He loved the smell of the sea and its foam, and spent hours carving figures into the face of the cliff.

One day, he saw a tiny boat approaching, rocked by the northern waves, fragile to the point of looking like a bee caught in a storm. He waved with his hands, and shouted, and jumped, and eventually saw the boat point towards him.

He sat on the sand and waited.

By dusk, the boat was some thirty steps away from the shore. It was made of cheap, dirty, creaking timber, coarse and rudimentary and completely devoid of grace.

On it, standing still against the darkening clouds, was God.

He didn't have to ask, he didn't have to guess, he didn't have to wonder, he didn't have to think.

He knew.

And yet he stood still, the sand around him already getting cold and its sappy hue turning to white. He waited with his toes buried deep.

The boat reached the shore, and God walked towards him, his appearance that of a woman who knew it all. A woman who walked like the sand was just as the water she had just left behind, like the sky above them was just another side of the same figure.

'Hi', she said, and her voice was normal, slightly soft, the voice of a bored tree.

The man had not spoken to anyone for the last fifty three years, ever since his husband had died while fishing their dinner.

'Hi', he grumbled.

'You don't believe in me', she said, not asking, not exactly judging either.

'I don't', he stated. He couldn't tell whether she was beautiful or not, the sun being behind her and her eyes being whatever eyes are when they are within the face of a god.

'Well, I'm here. I wanted to tell you I'm here. And wanted to tell you I'm sorry for your husband. And wanted to tell you you are not alone', she replied.

'But I want to be alone', he said, like the ways of a god were misteriously not misterious enough to understand the obvious.

'Do you not want to be back with him after death?', she asked.

'No, I'm fine. I just want to be here, carving my carvings, fishing my fishes, warm by day and cold by night, until I can't anymore', he answered.

She didn't look confused.

'You see', he said, 'I don't need to keep living forever. I don't need anything at all. I don't need him, nor you, nor the sea, nor the moon. Not even myself'.

She looked at him for a while, staring into his eyes like there was something she didn't know.

'Fine. Will leave you be, then. Do you mind if I stay to watch the sunset?', she asked.

'No', he said.

She sat by his side and buried her toes in the sand. The whole sea seemed to tremble.

The sun went down, and then she left in her boat, and the man gestured goodbye and sat on the beach while the night spoke in foam of the big trees of the forests far.