The Garden Isle

His mind drifted in and out of consciousness, images springing forth
unbidden, randomly reliving past moments in time.

_________________________________________________________________________
The car bounces and shimmies over the rough dirt path. The smell of the
ocean on the breeze suggests the beach is near. Out of the corner of her eye
a slight movement pulls her attention to the small opening in the trees. A
car, a surfboard, a person, “Aaagh…., Why?” The old man’s whitely naked
body fades slowly into the distance, the image fading much slower still. Far
too slow.
__________________________________________________________
The sun shines brightly as waves crash further and further up the tiny slice
of sand. A cooling wind blows mercifully. But at odds with the peaceful
surroundings a battle rages on. Laynni scores a telling blow, almost
completely obliterating the crab’s most recent underground stonghold.
Undaunted, the crab bursts from the shattered remains of his temporary
shelter, flicking a furtive clawful of sand off to the side, all the while
shooting a goggle-eyed stare directly into her eyes, a stare both meant to
challenge and distract.
“You little bugger! I crushed your home! You saw me, there was nothing
left!”
The crab dives quickly underground, just moments ahead of the next
onslaught.
___________________________________________________________
The beauty of the view is intoxicating, the ‘Grand Canyon of the Pacific’
surrounding them majestically in all directions.
“I want to turn around,” she whines loudly to be heard over the powerful
wind.
“No, we must be almost there, just around the next corner, I’ll bet.”
His obsessive need for ‘victory’ forces them onward, but only seconds
further before they spot a picnic table signalling the end of the trail
hovering on the cliff edge 50 yards back.
“Oh, I guess this is it. Cool.”
____________________________________________________________
A-wah-poo. Ah-wah-poo, muttered the pidgeon.
____________________________________________________________
His eyes sparkle with glee as he maneuvres the wily Dodge Stratus quickly,
almost recklessly, down the hill, in and out of the hairpin curves. He notes
with satisfaction that the car in the rearview mirror has fallen back
slightly. They may not know they’re racing, but that doesn’t mean they’re not
losing, he chuckles to himself.
“Slow down you idiot, I’m getting nauseous.”
He frowns before sullenly pushing the brake, noting with dismay the car in
the mirror getting larger…..
______________________________________________________________
He holds his follow through for an extra second or two, posing impressively.
The camera doesn’t care that the ball will eventually fall a few feet short,
bouncing sharply back into the green-front bunker. Or that the ensuing sand
shot will fly weakly over the putting surface. Brian, from South London,
sheepishly holds the camera out. “Um, I hope I, um, I sort of dropped it,
um, but I think it still works but well, it bounced pretty high, maybe you
should look at it….
______________________________________________________________
The fluourescent air-conditioned atmosphere of Long’s Drugs comforts, urges
them to consume, to feed the capitalist machine.
“Can we take a look at that Canon right there? We kind of broke ours today.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Now this is a nice little camera. We’ve also just got
in this Pentax too…”
_______________________________________________________________
The wind pushes them upriver, strong enough to overpower the weak current.
Despite nature’s helping hand the kayak meanders up the river, weaving
drunkenly from side to side. The sun glows brightly above the lush green
mountains as the kayak veers sharply to the left again. A deep sigh from the
rear causes the front paddler to stiffen and pause. A slow, serious look
directed over her shoulder tells her partner more than words ever could.
They paddle on in silence.
_________________________________________________________________
From the deep clear pond they gaze upward at the towering waterfall. The
river falls helplessly over the edge, crashing wildly into the water around
them. Miles from town, far upriver and deep into the jungle, no roads, no
houses, no electricity. By walks a chicken.
_________________________________________________________________
Dean & Laynni
Brought to you by Hilo Hattie, Hawaii’s one-stop shop for all your Aloha
Wear needs.
Next time: All the lei jokes your funny bone can handle.

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