Two thirty-six and twenty two seconds. Twenty three…twenty four…twenty five…twenty six…

His arm fell back down onto the sand but the never-ending ticks from his watch still echoed in his head.

Twenty seven…twenty eight…twenty nine…

He had been lying in the same spot since dawn. The sand had slowly warmed as the sun had risen and gradually pushed its way through the thick cloud cover. As he skimmed the sand nearby with his hand, the radiating warmth felt comforting as if encouraging him to stay still. However he was conscious of the cool damp sand that remained beneath him. He could feel it against his skin as if the sand had permeated his clothing and was slowly working its way through his very being. Trying to shift the idea that this cold surrounding him alone may be a reflection of his inner self, he contemplated moving a few feet along the beach.

…Four fifty-one and eleven seconds. Twelve…thirteen…fourteen…fifteen…

To move would have defeated the purpose of being there he had decided. He had to prove he could do this, even if it was only to himself. He raised his arm and counted the hours on his watch, guessing a few more until dark, wondering how many until someone missed him.

Further up the beach someone was calling their dog. Tilting his head towards the noise, he could just make out a small black shape darting in and out of the waves paying no attention to its human companion. The shouting continued, increasing in pitch and frequency but unfortunately decreasing in distance as the man started to walk round the bay.

He turned his gaze upwards again hoping they would miss him or at least ignore him if he acted uninterested in them. A small aircraft broke the clouds far above, nothing more than a dark dot against the white and bright blue. He wondered what it would be like to soar with only the birds to keep you company, to look down at a world seemingly devoid of life. Images of the world from airplane windows flashed through his mind, all borrowed from films or television shows as the closest he had ever been to flying had been jumping out of the top of the tree in his father’s garden five years ago. That effort had resulted in a broken arm, numerous days off school and several months of boredom after being banned from doing almost everything by his mum he recalled absentmindedly rubbing the small bump in the bone which was the only physical reminder of the accident. But to fly, to soar, to float, to feel the air rushing past, to see the world stretching beyond sight, oh to have that experience. He wondered if the birds realised how lucky they were.

The waves continued their relentless crawl up the sand, slowly inching their way towards his feet. Realising he hadn’t considered the possibility the tide could come so far up the beach thoughts of moving resurfaced. Looking around he soon discovered himself alone once more. There was no sign of the man and his dog, no calls carried by the breeze, no rustling in the undergrowth as something pushed its way through, no footsteps. Just his breathing, the ticking of his watch, the gentle breaking of the waves and the sighing of the breeze. He hadn’t noticed the sun had already started to sink between the edge of the sea and the sky. Swinging his arms out from his sides, he found nothing but cold sand. Already the heat of the day had been lost, the light was fading and the day had gone full circle.

As the darkness crept over his head, the words of yesterday rang in his ears.

“not good enough”

“lacking purpose”

“uncommitted to any goal”

“never pushing himself enough”

Remembering their doubts he became even more determined to stay on the beach, even more determined to prove them wrong. He knew he could achieve something unexpected, all he had to do was push himself.

The sky was now a dark inky blue dotted with specks of light as if someone had thrown a handful of sand into the abyss. The cold light of the moon had replaced the warmth of the sun, and now reflected in the water bathing the landscape with just enough of a glow to pick out its features. After clearing the sky of the clouds of earlier, the breeze had also disappeared.

He wondered if they had thought of him, if they were worried or concerned. They probably thought he was in his room reading or working, he’d come down for food if he were hungry so there was no need to bother him; he decided they wouldn’t have noticed he wasn’t around.

… one fifty-five and three seconds. Four…five…six…

It was silent now except for the waves but even they seemed to be sleeping. He was completely alone; there were no lights apart from those in the sky, no noises, no signs of anyone else existing. But he suddenly realised he liked this feeling. Trying to pretend that everyone else on the planet had in fact vanished, he imagined spending his days wandering the length of the coast, swimming in the sea, running in the fields. And finally he smiled. He had found what he had been longing for.

He decided at that moment to stay exactly where he lay. On his little spot on the beach, overlooking the bay, surrounded by the water and the sky. All he had had to do was to rise to their challenge. He had pushed himself and made it through. And with that the sun began to push up from the horizon, ready to start it all again.