The amber of the sun reflects back across the water. There isn’t much to do, except sit around and soak up the atmosphere. Me and my sister, are sitting on one of our old beach towels, talking about shells.
Parents are finally at some peace with each other and the siblings are getting along. How long does this usually last for? We both know that this summers day won’t last forever.
My mother shouts over to me.
“Peter! Will you run to the ice cream truck and grab us all some ice pops?”
I’m sure she can see on my face, that I couldn’t give a flying fuck about getting ice pops. I think this is the first time I’ve sat down all day.
“I’ll get them mum!”
My sister pipes up and offers to go, which is ideal. Although, I think it was partly the urge younger folk get when they see an opportunity to do something new.
It’s funny. No more than 10 seconds after she hands Sia the Commcast, the bickering and arguing begins. Brilliant. Maybe I’m to blame, maybe I don’t do enough, maybe I’m not what they hoped for and I’m the negative in the family.
I close my eyes. I can feel the sunlight warming my eyelids, and for a moment, I was able to tune them out.
As she skips along, without a care in the world, She did not see the ravens atop the van. Looking at her. Her mind was on the big ice cream truck at the top of the hill.
Sia runs through the sand as she approaches the top of the hill. She hates the feeling, in her feet, when the sand turns to asphalt. The pathway is cold and far too rough for soft feet, but the ice pops are calling out to her and she can’t wait to pay for something for the first time.
Commcast still gripped firmly in her hand, she runs up to the ice cream truck and looks to the guy waiting to serve her. He is sweating profusely, and scratches at the salty drops of perspiration beading on his forehead. There's a sinister vibe to him, and he is bouncing around the truck as if he were a pinball in a machine. The hangover from last night still clings to his addled brain as he leans forward to take the girl's order.
“Can I get four ice pops, please?”
He holds out the Commcast receiver and Sia holds out the device to pay.
“Thank you mister.”
The man swears inwardly as “Thank you mister” is his safe phrase and cannot choose a victim if they show politeness. It is one of his quirks as a serial killer.
With such small hands, it’s quite difficult to hold onto the ice pops without more of less hugging them. The blue stains the whitet-shirtt she is wearing and the coldness is not nice in the slightest. With the ice pops secure, and the Commcast loosely on her wrist.
She turns around.
The white noise of my parent's relentless squabbling soon turns to a shouting match and it isn’t long before it’s too difficult to drown it out. I pay no attention and continue to enjoy the feeling of the sunlight on my eyes.
Until it goes away.
It’s funny. Much like the great feeling of sitting with the family, making the most of the time when it’s content, I never truly make the most of it because I’m always worrying about when it will all inevitably be over. Much like the shade cast, from the sun behind the clouds.
Maybe, I just need to appreciate it more when it’s…….
The ice pops drop from Sia’s hands, as she looks up at the sky. She can’t even feel them crash onto her bare feet.
In the same second the ice pops leave her hands, the beam leaving the floating mass in the sky causes her to cover her eyes. The second, second... changes her life forever.
All images taken from Pixabay.com & Unsplash.com.
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Adaptations by 
< "Oh no."
