Friday, March 23, 2018

The Stone Collector

Fiction by Bailey J. Crocoll of Cerro Coso Community College
3rd Place for College Fiction - 2017 Met Awards

Addison strolled along, lugging her backpack with one arm and shading her eyes with the other. Ahead stood Ruby's, a greasy little fish and chip joint perched along the splintering boardwalk. The sun beat down on her shoulders and colored her arms an angry shade of red. A network of ketchup-stained tables with faded yellow umbrellas stood out front, sheltering clusters of people. Red-faced kids chucked fries out to the gulls that cautiously bobbed between the tables, squawking and swallowing hunks of discarded food. The ocean swelled below the boardwalk, sweeping by in a rush of greenish froth.

Adhering to her favorite afterschool ritual, she ordered a side of popcorn shrimp and a large frozen lemonade to contest the heat. Shooing away a large spotted pelican, Addison moved away from the crowd to sit on a short wooden bench. From here, she could see out over the long stretch of beach disappearing in either direction. Blissfully, she scuffed her shoes along the boardwalk as she swung her feet and let the salty breeze float across her face. Her eyes drifted along the people on the crowded beach below, laughing and shouting as they sprinted in and out of the ocean spray.

Straw midway to her lips, she paused, her gaze catching on a motionless figure. Crumpled there  on the sand below, beside one of the thick legs of boardwalk was a small shapeless figure. Hurriedly shoving her drink aside, she rushed over to the railing to get a better look. It was then that she realized she knew the woman who laid motionless in the sand. The locals called her the Stone Collector.

On cool evenings you could often find the Stone Collector knee-deep in the ocean waves, colorful skirt drenched in the water, frizzy red hair sticking out from beneath a torn sunhat. She'd totter up and down the beach, head down, squinting with scrutiny at the water. Suddenly she'd lunge forward, plunging her hands beneath the current and pop back up with a fistful of smooth stones. Mud dripping down her arms, she'd sort through the rocks in her open palms, letting several splash back into the water. The select few that she kept were cradled in the fabric of her shirt. For the most part, people left her alone and she maintained the same level of distance.

Addison backed away from the railing, contemplating. She looked longingly at her untouched shrimp and then back over the railing where the Stone Collector laid below. Swinging her backpack over her shoulder, she tucked her food into the crook of her arm and began to hurry along the sweltering boardwalk. She pushed past sweaty bodies lathered in sunscreen and a group of chattering tourists that hogged most of the path. She clambered down the stairs two at a time until her feet sunk into the burning sand at the bottom. Weaving through the wooden pillars coated in clumps of dull grey barnacles, she found where the woman was, her face just hidden in the narrow beam of shade cast by one of the pillars.

She had a tie-dye jacket balled up beneath her head and a hot pink stroller with wheels jammed in the sand standing beside her. Several gulls were perched on her stroller, plunging their orange beaks into the various bags that were strung along the handlebars. In a frenzy, they ripped at a sleeve of crackers, trampling over the already-ravaged bags of miscellaneous items. Piles of smooth bluish stones spilled from one open bag. Addison waved her arms at them, stomping forward until they jerked back and flew away. She carefully began scooping the disheveled items out of the sand and placed them back atop the stroller. As she shoveled dozens of rocks back into a torn bag her gaze shifted upwards.

Two round black eyes blinked up at her from a sun weathered face. Addison straightened quickly, brushing the sand off her hands. She cleared her throat. "Hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. I was on the boardwalk, I saw you laying here and I wasn't sure if you were ok... " she let her words taper off into the salty breeze.

Silently, the Stone Collector propped herself up onto her elbows, sending sand cascading off the folds of her clothes. Her inky eyes stayed locked on Addison, concealing any evidence of an expression. Addison cleared her throat, her gaze flicking over to where the Stone Collector's possessions sprawled across the sand from the invasive gulls. "The birds picked at your things," she gestured towards the stroller. "I think they ate your crackers. I have some popcorn shrimp, I drank the lemonade – but I didn't touch the shrimp." She plucked the bag out from under her arm and placed it at her feet. "Umm, alright. Have a good day," she muttered, shuffling away.

"I'm not crazy you know," her voice suddenly rasped. Addison turned back towards her, silent. "I know that they call me things. Beach Bum. Psychotic Sandy. Rocky." She pursed her dry lips. "Thanks for the shrimp," her veined hands reached for the bag.

"I've never heard anyone call you that," Addison shifted from foot to foot.

"But you've heard something," she popped a shrimp into her mouth.

Addison shrugged, glancing away, "the Stone Collector mostly."

The wrinkles etched along her face jumped when she barked out a dry laugh. "The Stone Collector, eh? I actually like that one. Not bad. Not bad."

"Why do you do it? Collect the rocks, I mean," Addison asked suddenly, unable to help herself.

She hiked an eyebrow up, licking a grease-coated finger. "I imagine for the same reason most collect money."

She didn't quite understand, but she nodded anyway. Felling her cue to leave, Addison raised a hand in departure. The Stone Collector didn't say anything, but as she hiked up the beach, Addison turned back to see her wading into the waves, hands already fishing beneath the water.

Contributor's Note: I came up with the title of The Stone Collector before I thought up the story. I just worked around the idea of the name and this is the resulting story.

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