Silver. Twisted from paint and fatigue and salt water, glinting as humanity goes out.
Black eyes gone dark. Whispered fantasies and longings and pain in the memory. That love unto no one was released, the hope and the stardust died along with him.
The sea water comes in cold and fast, washing away Simon and the storm.
He peeled back the branches and looked into the sky. A clear, unearthly blue shown back at him. Simon briefly lamented the length and coarseness of his dark hair, and reveled in such mundane thoughts. Sinking into the warm, damp ground, Simon pulled his knees to his chest and contemplated normality. Sadness, joy, the brilliantly simplified façades of human existence. He thought about Ralph.
The creepers seemed to close in around him, but as of yet, in a comforting way. No pigs head yet to leer at him, no blood staining the carpet of leaves and foliage he rested upon. No ululation in the distance.
Overhead, a blue bird with an excessive tail and lightly golden plumage crossed Simon's field of vision. The bird seemed spared the unfaltering truths Simon had stumbled upon, fell onto since his first day away from a strict secondary school. He smiled faintly, imagining flying upon powder blue wings and across a comparably less blue ocean.
