For December 14, 2018 500-word weekend write-in. Prompt: "approach."

The master finds new life.

He blinks hard and his gnarly hand wipes away the salt water and sand. Tears continue to fall on his chapped cheeks. He seems to have a rough time seeing. He squints from the midday sun's glare, stumbling when his bare feet meets a cracked shell. He yelps, as do I, and we fall to the ground from the pain.

From this distance, I can see water drip from his sandy blond beard onto his soaking wet clothes: a white t-shirt, black trousers.

"Hey!"

"Hey!" I respond, equally enraged. He pumps his fist. I pump mine.

"Who do you think you are?" He roars, louder than the ocean's waves crashing against the surf.

"Who do you..." I falter. Our voices are identical, made of gravel. I glance down at my clothing: a white t-shirt and black trousers. My feet are bare. My hand is gnarly.

"You take that mask off!" He charges for me, so rapidly that I become still from shock. He leaps onto me and tackles me to the sand beneath us. Frigid water rushes onto our bodies matching the force and wildness of his grip on my beard. In his attempt to rip it off, he's immediately seized by a searing hot pain in his frontal lobe.

A flurry of curses fly from his blistered lips, and he keels over. Lying in a fetal position, his hands clutch his head. His ragged breaths and coughs match mine. The searing pain doesn't shoot or crush the nerves in my brain. I have neither.

"What-" he gasps. "What did you do to me?"

I shush him. Kneeling behind him, I turn him onto his back gently.

Cerulean like the sky above us, his eyes widen, and he jerks his head around. A cloudy film settles over the irises.

"I can't..." His hands caked in wet sand wave in the air, some of it flying onto my face. I wipe the muddy grains off. "I can't see."

"You will," I reply. "Soon." Despite his thrashing, I cradle him in my lap with ease. He grasps my right arm, my skin unyielding. His howls are animalistic. I cringe from the cacophony, recalling why I'm here.

"A new life awaits," I coo. Raising my hand to begin the mission, a shadow swirls in my palms. Within the center is an array of stars, clustered in a single arc.

"What're you doing? Get off me!" Their twinkle is the last he sees as I lower my hand to his forehead and breathe. He stills instantly.

Eventually, the sun sets, the warmth of the day remaining in me. The ocean tide leaves my limbs cold and decorates us in slimy seaweed.

I lift my hand from his face. The last of the sunlight catches the curve of his brow. Deep grooves scar his ruddy skin.

I sigh.

He sighs.

"Tomorrow will be a new day," I murmur in his ear, to which he replies:

"Tomorrow will be a new day."

End