BEACH SCENE
By MARSHALL KING
Illustrated by WOOD
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Magazine October 1960.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
It was a fine day at the beach
for Purnie's game—but his new
friends played very rough!
Purnie ran laughing and shouting through the forest until he could runno more. He fell headlong into a patch of blue moss and whooped withdelight in having this day free for exploring. He was free to see theocean at last.
When he had caught his breath, he looked back through the forest. Nosign of the village; he had left it far behind. Safe from the scrutinyof brothers and parents, there was nothing now to stop him from goingto the ocean. This was the moment to stop time.
"On your mark!" he shouted to the rippling stream and its orangewhirlpools. He glanced furtively from side to side, pretending thatsome object might try to get a head start. "Get set!" he challengedthe thin-winged bees that hovered over the abundant foliage. "Stop!"He shrieked this command upward toward the dense, low-hanging purpleclouds that perennially raced across the treetops, making one wonderhow tall the trees really were.
His eyes took quick inventory. It was exactly as he knew it would be:the milky-orange stream had become motionless and its minute whirlpoolshad stopped whirling; a nearby bee hung suspended over a paka plant,its transparent wings frozen in position for a downward stroke; and theheavy purple fluid overhead held fast in its manufacture of whorls andnimbi.
With everything around him in a state of perfect tableau, Purniehurried toward the ocean.
If only the days weren't so short! he thought. There was so much tosee and so little time. It seemed that everyone except him had seenthe wonders of the beach country. The stories he had heard from hisbrothers and their friends had taunted him for as long as he couldremember. So many times had he heard these thrilling tales that now,as he ran along, he could clearly picture the wonderland as though hewere already there. There would be a rockslide of petrified logs toplay on, the ocean itself with waves higher than a house, the comicalthree-legged tripons who never stopped munching on seaweed, and manykinds of other wonderful creatures found only at the ocean.
He bounced through the forest as though the world was reserved thisday just for him. And who could say it wasn't? he thought. Wasn't thishis fifth birthday? He ran along feeling sorry for four-year-olds, andeven for those who were only four and a half, for they were babies andwouldn't dare try slipping away to the ocean alone. But five!
"I'll set you free, Mr. Bee—just wait and see!" As he passed one ofthe many motionless pollen-gathering insects he met on the way, he tookcare not to brush against it or disturb its interrupted task. WhenPurnie had stopped time, the bees—like all the other creatures hemet—had been arrested in their native activities, and he knew that assoon as he resumed time, everything would pick up where it had left off.
When he smelled an acid sweetness that told him the ocean was not faroff, his pulse quickened in anticipation. Rather than spoil what wasclearly going to be a perfect day, he chos