There's a man who walks through town with a large piece of driftwood stuck to his back. No one knows if he fell and it is impaling him, or if he has somehow sewn his clothes around it; fabric becoming a holster for future firewood. His hearing is quite bad, so to approach him with questions regarding the origins of the wood, poses a danger of him spinning and striking your person in his startled state, so all in town leave him be.
The only time we hear words from his mouth is when we sit near to him during sunset. The sun slowly wraps his face in sheets of glowing stories that speak of cosmic darkness and her children.
Of the beginning of it all.
The sheets hang off his body, til they touch the driftwood on his back, spreading strange shadows across the sand to his side, causing him to look and mumble, "what a strange looking bird."
