One Particular Night in Venice Beach

Cliches are cliches for a reason. Some of the best stories start with cliches. This one is no different. Do not let the cliche fool you. This story is worth hearing. Let's meet our first characters.

It was a dark and misty night (you were warned, and at least it wasn't dark and stormy)

The fog rolled up on the beach all of a sudden, as it tends to do. It smelled mild and was enough for a chill. The beach has many types of fog. The fog that preceeds the storms. The fog that hogs the morning light. The fog that steals the sunset. I particularly dislike that fog. I am rather fond of sunsets. This fog was like the ocean wanted some privacy, it just arose and swallowed the pier, and then the beach, finally enveloping the town in its entirety.

The end of the pier still had people looking down to the water, looking for lights from passing boats. Nobody even noticed when he emerged, and nobody has ever known why. He steps from the fog and looks out of place while being the only one who does not feel it. He feels right at home, almost as if he was there first. He very well may have been. Black raised boots that made no noise at first. Black bottoms, plain and clean. Slightly ornamented with jewelry lost in time and a jacket, warm and soft yet fit for a gala. A hat standing tall with character and leaning in a way too cool to be an accident.

After a few steps, soft footsteps could be heard. Growing more present with each step. Abruptly he stops, takes a long inhale casting his gaze cross the boardwalk glowing in the mist.

"It glows now, how nice... clever little devils" he says through an impressed smirk. His attention is drawn to a young lady, disheveled and sitting on a blanket singing. Soft tunes with a beautiful tone.

"May I join you?" he asks. She gestures permission not missing a note. Finishing the song with dramatic flair, the voice of an angel with deep broken eyes.

He asks with no condescension "what is your name?"

"Delilah, I like your outfit" the compliment is warm and welcome. He gives himself a look and says "thank you, I have had it a long long time".

"What is your name?" she asks feeling the soft fabric of his jacket.

"Reverend" replying through a smile. "Please forgive the oddness of this next question, but what year would it be?"

She laughs with much more soul than her eyes imply remains. "It is still 2021 far as I know."

"Delilah, I have been gone for quite some time, are you familiar with the area?" he asks while rising back to his feet, offering her a hand up.

"More than I ever wanted to be" she replies while accepting help to her feet.

"Would you mind showing me around and helping me refamiliarize myself with the area?"

He puts his coat around her, life pulses back into her eyes, she stands up straight as stiffness melts from her body. She takes a slow deep breath and smiles nodding yes. "Where are you from?"

"Here, actually, but I have been away for a while," he replies.

"How long?"

He pauses, composes, and offers his arm in a gentemanly manner. "Feels like 50 years," said with a big smile.

She smiles back and laughs at what must be hyperbole. It was not. She notices the back of the pier is completely swallowed in fog, but a path is clear towards land. Where did all the people go?

Her curiosity is punctured when she sees what she swears is a guy with wings perched ahead on the pier railing. She squeezes her eyes shut and when they open the figure is gone.

"Did you see that?" she asks expecting a no, and the inevitable realization by her new companion that her mental state is fragile.

"I did, pay him no worry" was not the response she expected, but it was the one she got.

"Wait, you did see it?"

"I did, they are not to be worried about Saint Delilah".

The title makes her face contort. "Saint!!" bursting into laughter. Laughter cut short when she notices a female figure dramatically backlit by the city and fog standing at the entrance to the pier. The Reverend locks gaze with the emerging figure and then back to Saint Delilah.

"Yes, Saint Delilah, and it is good to see you again." the smile is sinister in a most reassuring way.

Questions flood her swirling mind. Are these memories rushing back or another psychotic break? Who is this person? Who is THAT person? I know that thing on the pier had wings!! Why did he call me Saint? All rushing in too fast to articulate. The best she can muster is "I am NOT a saint."

They are within earshot of the woman standing with goddess authority waiting with what looks like apprehension and impatience.

The Reverend smiles at the guardian of the pier, and then smiles at Saint Delilah, "I know love, and I promise you... I'm no reverend."