'Anon' at Gilgo

"support the UN's International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women."....

'Anon"- I had imagined it to be some  famous person, with so much credited to the name , until it collapsed under the factual knowledge of what it stood for...

But I am 'Anon', imperceptible like the air, stranded at the interlocks of a feather , I stay on the beach, in the air, in the spray, just there...

Some times, I am just in some ones thoughts, always 'Anon'....

  The waves lapped at the sandy beach, throwing up the sand, swirling memories of lives from the deep as it foams, form-less. Somewhere far in the Atlantic a storm churned and raged. The muddy foam slaps at  the shore, perhaps in its efforts to avenge the land.

Screams from somewhere on the shore leaned into the howling winds ,mixed into the spray and lost itself seamlessly into the universe.

One could say that the howling winds of the nights were all interwoven sounds- lives spilled into the vast oceans, periodically re-visiting the lands gathering up more of those into yet other storms; sounds of muted crying, heart wrenching sobs, screams of distilled fears and death , all woven into the air and sea, blowing over the land ,  to spill out as wind and waves...That may be why howling winds distress man and beast alike, moving all into hiding.

     Crisp air with the faint wisps of snow hung over ocean parkway. A stream of light pierced that darkness and turned right onto the driveway. She had met him at a bar some where in Queens. 

The only strand that clung to her memory was the curves of the SUV-sleek red Audi with break lights that glowed like red feathers..

Oaks island had a charm that lent itself to the scent of moneyed outcrops that varied between beachfront cottages and tidy little houses that nestled along that stretch of sand. Little marinas dotted the bay ,tidy boats swinging on the waves.

Her mind stayed  partly in queens- the bustling loudness interspersed with sweat and grime in the streets, where humanity's hopes and its hopeless pathos evaporated into the air .

The bar was loud and coarse with the pathos , for a brief moment she felt she had escaped into a higher plane, even as she knew it would be short...It was just life for the sake of living, You held those hopes -you took some and you lost some. Who indeed has any right to judge, about principles and rules, yes when life has to be lived with all its apathy and pathos that  churns up in the efforts for a grip at survival. 

She viewed her actions as momentary, but others may consider them consequential...A short sigh escaped into the cold air as those feather break lights disappeared into the garage . She was standing in the arc of a driveway. 

The air was chill and she shivered .He knocked on the glass panes of the window to get her attention. The front door opened and she floated in with her little silver purse by her side . The tap of her high heels echoed hollow through the house .

   Time has a way of sweeping out the present into the future, and at times it gathers up the past and dots the present with its ghosts. Yet it is this character of time which gives it that aura of undefinable ghost like quality...

She didn't have any way to define the present, except that she was in some floating cloud-

She was not sure of time or events any more, part was past, and parts present , real or unreal all mixed up and cloud like...

Yes, the Audi with break lights like red feathers, not some random dots or lines , glowing feathers , and its curves , graceful like the arched back of a nude sculpture...A room at the back...

The grey sports car purred to life and charged like a winged predator, all bared teeth and wings tucked by its side , as she ran into the sand bank...

  The air was crisp with snow falling in tiny wisps. The raw wind picked up and brought ashore the foam floating like scales of ash from the fire place where he burned her ID and things that mattered-there was a faded family photo tucked inside her wallet.. The wallet retained its shape in glowing embers , its charred form soon to crumble into flakes of ash to scatter like dandruff on the sand  as he threw it far.

All these forms have become a "non"

Nothing mattered any more as her screams were drowned out by the howling wind, her voice became part of the wind which will blow each winter howling against his conscience. 

Her choking gasps escaped raspy against the raw sea and died out like the embers at his fire place, as he pushed her  further into the water. 

The swaying lights of the beach houses and the line of the shore remained silent , as the air turned with her breath 

 (story by PC3- 11/25/18- ref- gilgo beach's lost)

Most Femicides occur in the homes, femicide  the ultimate violence against women