Bohemia Village Voice

The Hungry Seagull

A seagull landed on my table today where I was having tea and cakes in a café at St Leonards-on-Sea.
It perched opposite and looked at me as if to say
“Sorry you’ve got no feathers and can’t fly, but in a way you’ve got the advantage. You’ve got no need to tear up black bags. Unlike me you can exchange bits of metal or small sheets of paper for a feast like the one in front of us. Perhaps we could change places. I’ve got a few feathers to spare. You could fit them, and fly off, and perch on the roof, look down and feel sorry for all the earth-bound creatures. In return you could advise me where I can get bits of metal and paper. Or perhaps we can share this feast in front of us?”
I nodded agreement and gave him half my cake but nothing from my teapot.
I don’t think seagulls drink tea.

Ghost

I had come down to St. Leonards – the seaside – to ‘lay a ghost.’ For me a feeling of happiness pervaded the place, especially by moonlight. It lived in the wind whistling across, churning up the waves, rattling the groynes and disturbing the shingle and emitting strange odours of beached algae, cuttlefish, and once lived-in shells while discarded cans tinkled and torn newspapers joined in a dance.
But then everything went wrong.
Another argument – one of many. Angry words flying across. The quarrel became more and more animated. Finally she jumped to her feet and stormed off, her last words snatched away by the wind. I could barely hear them.
“Fine, have it your way!”
I said to myself – ‘If she looks back, I’ll run after her’. But she didn’t.
I knew what she was going to do. She was heading straight for the beach and sit in one of those wrought iron shelters overlooking the sea and do what one of my aunts used to call ‘commune with the sea.’
It grew dark. Clouds covered the moon. I must have fallen asleep. I think I slept on this lonely beach for an hour or two. I woke up suddenly. A shiver went across my back. I stumbled up the wooden steps and made my way to my B&B and collapsed on my bed without bothering to take my clothes off, but I didn’t sleep. Somebody else was in my room. It was her. But she looked different. She seemed to stand surrounded by a small gale that vibrated around her and made her outlines indistinct.
She weaved forwards and backwards at the bottom of my bed and looked at me balefully and spoke:
“It’s your fault. You should have run after me and stopped me. I took off my shoes and my tights. I felt a little paddling in the sea would help but suddenly there came a big wave and I was swept out to sea and drowned but I’m not dead. I’m a ghost and I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life.”