On Life and cat

Ch 2. Shopping for catch

I was gazing throughout the horizon.

The raw ocean breeze tore though the nose, even though I was still far from the shore. Moist hands, dirty nails, it was a tar odour that slowly glided toward the bay with boat, man and catch of the day. A smell most may react to in the beginning, but which the villagers considered mandatory if you'd like to stay.

On a pole located on the far end of the bay, someone had placed a statue. It was a statue of a boy placed on the very edge of the bay. I frowned at the rough round head barely shaping what i could make out to be a face. It starred back at me through tearing dark holes. Bleached, bronzed and expressionless. And yet- I imagined it as being somewhat sad. Somehow. 

But why on a pole? It's a perfect place to be alone though. Was it possible to envy a statue? I kept moving. Trying to understand the villagers was something I had given up on long ago, they went to such lengths to-

A movement in the corner of my eye made me reconsider whether it really was a statue or not. Interesting idea. 

What if all statues weren't really statues? What if they had been people? Real people, living their lives with relatives, then suddenly...stop. A momentum of life is all that's left. 

The spray of seawater stood fresh around the small figure, but it held steadfast. I tried to narrow the view as I walked further down the road, but the distance seemingly remained the same. I could feel his eyes, calmly watching me, strolling down the coast. 

The statue boy.

My eyes filled with water and I gave up. "Nevermind," I told myself. "It's was probably just another one of Kerrigan's projects." He normally roamed the seafront for unknown "treasures" as he called it. Had a whole collection of them, he did, gathered by his boathouse. Hours of work went into each one of them as he twisted old metal strings and empty green bottles into little dolls and devices. A pole with a statue wasn't by far the most curious thing I had seen. It's a sad truth that Whitby now belonged to the elderly. Most of them with a bad sense of humour and way too much time on their hands. I could argue that it was a stupid thing to do, placing a statue there, as it could cause the boats to crash into it, but that wouldn't really matter. Most likely the waves would get to it in a few hours.

The remaining time of my walk I tried naming all the cats in the neighbourhood. Because it seemed the reasonable thing to do. But after going through the whole list twice, I grew tired. I didn't know any cat that looked like the one outside my door. And if I were to count all the witches around here with a cat up to no good, I'd sooner turn into one myself before I could finish. Hopeless. Who could I possibly ask for help?

I shot a look back at the lighthouse behind me. Ambrose had dropped me off in the outskirts of town before he continued on the road west, out of here. He had to get on with business and back to his tower before it began, he said.

Doctors, where my first thought.

I'm not going back.

A friend? 

Don't have any. 

I shiver. I was the unclever incarnation of Sherlock Holmes, more or less. And my feet were getting cold.

Over the horizon, there was a storm gathering. Heavy, dark blue clouds moved above the ocean waves, seagulls shivered and shifted diagonally with the wind. I tried passing the time by overlooking the sea for any last-minute boats. But I guess with the wall of fog so close no one still at sea would dare try come though. Even the lighthouse was invisible in this weather. 

Only thing left out there now was that pole.

Ghastly, strange and alone. 

Like me.