Progress on Sandy Cape: Prologue

As you may know, The Giant Trees of Tochigi Project is complete. Yes, there was a wee bit of speculation on my part that there may be more trees but then I up and moved to a completely different prefecture, so that’s out of the question now. There may be some Giant Trees of Kanagawa posts now and again, but now I’m rambling so 3 2 1 stop. 

From this Friday, August 16th at 7pm (GMT+9), my new writing project, Progress on Sandy Cape, will debut in this space. What you see below is a teaser, a prologue, a whathaveyou. I do hope you’ll come back on Friday and every Friday thereafter to enjoy the drivel I’ve written. I wrote it for you, after all. Yes, you. You, there. Yes.

You can’t see the headland of which I speak but it’s there, dagnabbit.

It is summer.

The holidays have begun and, despite the wretched, searing heat, I feel the need to be outdoors. With the ear-splitting mii mii mii of the cicadas all around me, I walk to the beach.

I am new here, and have not often been to the beach, but on a day such as this, the beach seems the perfect place to be. The walk isn’t long, and soon I can feel the sand between my toes. Tanned, toned guys try to surf on the pitifully small waves, and women in summer burqas hide under umbrellas so that they don’t get any colour at all. To be deathly white is to be beautiful, you know.

But I suddenly feel oppressed by the crowd of people around me, and I can feel panic setting in. This is not unusual — there is precedent for this — but I feel I have to get away gotta get away, and so I move away from the main beach and towards the headland.

In these parts, this place is called Sandy Cape. It’s not an original name. It’s very much a “say what you see” sort of name. I can criticize it, but at the end of the day, it’s perfectly valid, I suppose.

As I progress towards the tip of Sandy Cape, I notice a storm is quickly moving in. I won’t be able to get back to town before it comes, but if I remember correctly, there’s a cave near the point that I can shelter in for a while. No problem, I keep walking.

The storm breaks overhead and suddenly the wind is all around me and sand is flying in my eyes and I’m drenched to the bone and I can barely see and then I’m in the cave and catching my breath. What the devil is up with that storm, it’s unusually fierce and sudden, even for this time of year. At any rate, I lean against the cave wall and close my eyes and try to relax.

It’s then that I hear a voice. A woman. Singing. At first I think nothing of it, assuming it to be the wind, or that I’ve just dozed off a little bit and am having a day dream. But then something changes. I feel that I am not where I ought to be. I feel that the cave has gone or rather that I have left the cave. With trepidation, I open my eyes in a new world.