The sound of fusion of melting plastic globes

At times he would burrow his hands into the sand and feel the origin of man. At times he would sleep on this sand and dream of things undone. He remembered dreaming that he saw lights in the sky and that it looked as if some alien force was photographing the planet. He was somewhere in Southeast Asia and it must have been sheet lightening. There was no thunder. The flashes seemed to capture segments of the Earth’s surface. It was cloudy that night. Perhaps, their photographs did not capture it all. Still, the flashes lit up whole sections of sea in eerie forlorn silence, foretelling in pictures the ending to the story. It was as if giant flash bulbs were being ignited. There was no more sound than the electric sound of those old flashbulbs that people used to fit in a socket. There was the sound of fusion of melting plastic globes and a singeing crackling sting in the air. It was a force only a higher being could have brought to bear. Poof, another picture and location pinpointed. Again and again as if Google maps were taking pictures. Charls could imagine an Enterprise docked in space — meetings taking place to decide the fate of the planet.
The next day a fleet of ships made their way to shore to plant the devices that would end the physical world.
His girlfriend said she had no idea what he meant when he told her that he could feel that life originated in the sand. Then she walked away.
The ships were approaching the shore. These beings had a plan. It was time to end the experiment called planet Earth. Things had not gone well. Something had been corrupted. They wanted to start over again. This was way back then, but even then the aliens had a plan. They were studying the birds for ways of infecting them with an agent that could carry death into mankind. It would take some time. Charles woke up and thought again of a place with no birds. He did not know why. Were all the birds going to die?

Summer time proved to him that time was an illusion. The three months of summer went by in a day. Nine months of school took forever. He never forgot those summers spent in Southern California. He sometimes spent twelve hours at the beach on any given day. Body surfing was where it was at; sometimes with a couple of friends and a chart of the tides. At that time they figured they knew everything about tides. They had a table of times for the high and low tides and figured they were linked to the moon. Little did Charls know at that time that there was a lot more to determining those times in the table then the position of the moon and its pull on the oceans.
One summer vacation day he was walking home nursing a bad jellyfish sting and in the hills of Laguna Beach he saw a dead stingray on the sidewalk and just for adventure stabbed it with a stick. When he speared it in the head a glob of white sticky stuff shot out and hit him in the eye. The goo grossed him out. For a moment he couldn’t see clearly. He wanted to shout as he walked up that hill from the Pacific Coast Highway. If he did, somewhere surly a much older man would have heard him and waved him on.

“Hey Jack, tell me about those California girls. Don’t you wish… Shut up Golem, it’s an old song. “Hey Jack, what’s a gamahuche?” I don’t rightly know Golem.