As he walked up to the back porch, the Reader noticed Bubba sitting in the grass next to a dead animal. Bubba looked up and said, “This was Oscar the Marsh Owl, a rare species in North America. He was a very old friend of mine. I have been sitting here remembering the times we have shared.”

“Reader, have you sat with a friend to remember better times or shared comfort in a time of strife? It is a special time, indeed. Here’s a story about such a friendship.”

Charlie Culbertson enjoyed surf fishing when he could since he retired from the Post Office, but that was rare. Olivia his wife had a stroke the week after he retired and needed daily attention… in-home private nursing attention he could not afford to fund. So, Charlie devoted his time and energy to his high school sweetheart and life partner of 57 years. Olivia passed away the following Christmas Eve.

By March 3, Charlie had reached a crossroads in life … live in the past or start a new chapter in life. He rented a small furnished house and moved to the coastline. This would afford him time to think and time to fish.

Rain or shine every morning, he was up before dawn for two cups of coffee, two scrambled eggs, toast, and jam. Every morning, he loaded his fishing gear in his old truck and took off for Burkhart Bay, his favorite fishing beach. 

That first morning Charlie walked onto the beach, he had two rigs, a small bucket of shrimp, a new tackle box loaded with more gear than he would use in a year, two sand spikes for his rods, and a small cold box with three beers and two bologna and pepper jack sandwiches. If someone yelled, “Stick ’em up!” seismologists might have thought there was an earthquake when he dropped all that stuff.

Suddenly, he saw a body in a sitting position staring at the tiny pinpoint on the horizon that would become the rising sun. He squinted and wondered, Is it some dude strung out on coke or marijuana? Is it some hippie trying to find the newest true meaning of Life? He stopped in his tracks. Oh, my Lord! Maybe he’s dead!

Charlie walked slowly in front of him ready to drop everything and run back up the cliff to his truck if necessary. “Good Morning, Sir! It’s a beautiful day!”

No response, so Charlie kept walking. Maybe he IS dead, he thought but watched the stranger’s eyes follow him.

And every morning he walked by that man sitting in meditation on the sand. Charlie said, “Good Morning!” every time he passed the stoic and still man, but never got any reply. The stranger faced the ocean unmoving like a statue. Over time, they exchanged greetings as one does when seeing someone familiar yet someone not well known to you. Charlie spoke and the stranger’s head followed Charlie’s movements. Once Charlie thought he heard a groan or a grunt.

Charlie wondered who the stranger was, why he was here at sunrise every morning, and why he walked away minutes after the sun rose a few degrees above the horizon. One day, Charlie’s curiosity got the better of him and he stopped. “I’ve never told you my name. It’s Charlie. Charlie Culbertson. What’s your name?”

“Dar-N,” was all that came from the stranger named Dar-N.

“You’re here every morning I come, but you leave shortly after sunrise. I’ve never seen any gear alongside you, so I assume you are not here to fish. Do you have one of those skin conditions that prevent you from spending too much time in the sun?”

“Dar-N is waiting for a ride home.”

“Oh, I see. Say, Darren … do you mind if I call you Darren … Darren, I would be happy to offer you a ride home in my truck. It’s not fancy, but it gets me where I need to go. It’ll do the same for you, too. So whadda say?”

“I am Dar-N. My home is far away.”

“Oh, up the mountain drive?” Charlie asked as he pointed inland.

As he pointed to the horizon, something similar to a chuckle came from Dar-N. “No, my home is very far away.”

This guy is a few french fries short of a Happy Meal, Charlie thought to himself. The nearest land in that direction is Africa!  He scratched his head as he said, “I don’t understand, Darren.”

“I know,” Dar-N said as he stood and walked away, “and my name is Dar-N.”

“Ok, Darren. I’ll see you tomorrow.  But remember, if you need a ride somewhere, I’ll be glad to drive you.”

Dar-N did not reply. Instead, he walked up the path to the top of the cliff and was soon out of sight.

“Hmph. I was only trying to be friendly.” Charlie kept fishing and brought in two nice red drum… as well as an idea. “I’ll get up early and get here an hour early. Something smells like two-day-old dead fish about this whole thing, and I plan to find out what is up.”

Charlie was an hour early the next morning and he hurried to the beach. But Dar-N was already sitting there in the same position in the same spot. Charlie marched up to Dar-N and demanded answers. “What and who are you waiting for day after day? And why do you leave every day just after sunrise? You can’t keep me in the dark.”

Dar-N looked straight up and replied, “The dark dismisses. Soon your sun will rise. I do not control the dark.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it! Why won’t you give me a straight answer?”

The expression on Dar-N’s face began to change as he slowly stood and raised his arms skyward. The beginning of a smile crept across his usually somber expression.

“Answer me, Darren. Dammit, talk to me!”

Dar-N’s left arm extended toward Charlie. “Stand away from me so you are not injured. This is it! This is finally it!”

“Finally what? You’re not making any sense, Darren. Talk to me!”

Dar-N slowly turned to face Charlie. His eyes changed to a golden color. “I will be leaving soon, Charl-E. They have finally come to get me.”

“Huh?”

“I see the orange beam of light coming to surround me and take me home!”

Charlie didn’t know how to respond so he kept his mouth shut. He sat down on the beach a few feet from Dar-N and waited … and waited … and waited longer. 

The promise of Dar-N’s hope faded as the sun rose. His head drooped as he exhaled a long, slow breath. He said nothing as he stood and began to walk away. Only then did he notice that Charlie had stayed. Dar-N nodded and trudged away.

This scenario played out day after day, week after week, and eventually year after year. It did not matter if the weather was foul or fair, Charlie greeted Dar-N each day on the beach. Charlie got older, yet Dar-N did not seem to change. Charlie struggled more each week to cross the sands to fish near the ever-quiet Dar-N. Many days he did not care if he caught anything … he felt a need inside to be with his quiet friend in need. Especially on that fall day with rain pelting down on the beach.

Charlie did not carry his fishing tackle anymore. The arthritis in his hands made that simple task impossible. He struggled to simply walk across the sand due to the pain in his knees and hips. But he had to make that trip each day to see his friend. He saw Dar-N through the rain and yelled his usual greeting, but he saw no indication that he was heard. As he walked up, he said, “Good Morning! Well, I guess it is a good morning if you are a duck.” Charlie got no response. “Hey, this is the way our conversations started years ago … I spoke and you ignored me. Are we going back to that?” Only then did he notice the change in the color of Dar-N. His skin was shriveled and faded gray, similar to the color of his clothes. His head slowly turned with recessed eyes that matched his skin color. 

Charlie gasped, “Darren, are you alright?”

“They never came for me,” Dar-N said as the rain beat down on him. “I have waited 327 of your Earth years for them, and they never came. My survey ship crashed out there in the ocean and only I survived. I have waited all this time for them to come. Now I will join my ancestors in the old way. I will cease to exist,” he explained with finality. He turned to Charlie and smiled. Then his head drooped forward. Rain pelted Dar-N’s head and ran down his nose like a small waterfall.

Charlie stayed beside Dar-N the rest of that day and the next … waiting for sunrise.

***

“Officer Sims, where is your report on the deaths on the Berkhart Bay Beach?”

“Sarge, the Medical Examiner was slow getting back to me … problems with one of the autopsies. The whole thing was weird! We didn’t find them until the rain stopped. It was two guys sitting together on the beach. One was a pale gray color – maybe dead for a week or more. The other had a fishing hat on with an arm around the other guy.”

“So, what is weird about that?”

“The ME said the pale gray guy had been dead for a week or so before the guy with the fishing hat.”

“Yeah, you already said that,” the sergeant replied, quickly losing interest in the conversation.

“But the guy with the fishing hat had only been dead for a couple of days! How is that possible? There ain’t no way that old guy could carry the already-dead other guy out on the sand, pose the body, sit down, and just die! That’s weird! They sat there like they were waiting for something!”