A woman living in a beach town is recovering from trauma caused by a boating accident. Despite her initial fears, she eventually falls in love with the ocean again.

       Her window framed the scene like a postcard. The wooden boardwalk held tourists, college kids on spring break, old couples taking walks. Though they were far away, snippets of their conversations could still be heard from her room. Behind them, the shore, with sand as soft as powder and waves even softer. There was a clear line in the ocean about ten feet out, separating turquoise from sapphire. Separating safety from danger. No one dared to cross this line. Parents yelled at their children not to swim too far out while couples took selfies with the gorgeous blues in the background. If you listened really closely, you could hear gasps from those witnessing its beauty for the first time, all the way from her room. But she wasn’t trying to listen for those reactions or the chatter. All of her senses were further out into the distance, beyond the boardwalk and the shore. She could only hear the sound of large waves breaking against the surface, only see the sapphire blue sizzling from the summer sun, only smell salt and blood. It was this scent that left her stuck in her bed all hours of the day. Why did she keep moving to beach towns? Why didn’t she just move to a concrete jungle or a small farm? Why couldn’t she just look away?

       During the day, she was possessed by the ocean out in front of her. At night, she was possessed by the ocean in her memory. Much like the one she lived by, the ocean she had ventured into was a beast. She could still remember their ship, one of the best, being flipped like a pancake. She could still see the wood come apart like sand. She remembers her crewmates, their heads sinking in one by one. It’s really a miracle she survived. If you call this survival.

       After months of pleasant weather, she awoke one morning to a murky gray sky instead of the usual blue. The rain was coming down hard and the winds were howling. All of this explained the lack of crowd amongst the shore and the boardwalks. She watched droplets fly in through her open window. The carpeted floor began to hold a puddle, forcing her to leave her safe spot.

       Now she was closer to the ocean than she ever had been. It only took a few feet for this obsession to turn into a pull. As if her feet had a mind of their own, they slid into some old flip flops and started running. She had to get there before the sun wiggled out from behind the clouds and the crowds came flocking back. 

       She came to a complete stop on the sand. A wave stretched out towards her, as if it wanted to grab her by the foot and drag her in. But it had just missed the tips of her flip flops, leaving it up to her to make the move.

       Even after being chained to her bed by nightmares of her crewmates’ screams, she didn’t hesitate to run in. The feeling was not mutual, however, as she got the sense that the ocean was trying to push her out. But she fought back. She jumped over the waves it sent and stood up every time they knocked her down. She kept going.

       By this point, she was far beyond the safe zone, though she didn’t seem to notice. She didn’t know when she was going to turn back, if she was going to turn back. It sounded ridiculous, but there was nothing for her on land. Nothing like this.

       Now the ocean was annoyed. It had hoped to push her out, then hoped she would leave on her own. Its patience had run out. It sent a wave the size of a skyscraper, one she could not escape in time. Before she could react, it ate her. She was left doing cartwheels in the ocean, but she was too far out to be pushed to shore. Once she slowed down, she didn’t rush to grab air. She opened her eyes, taking in the gorgeous colors around her. She felt like a fly in a piece of stained glass. Even without the beating sun, the ocean still sparkled. Entranced by the sight, she forgot to go up. The ocean seized the opportunity, sending in another big wave. She didn’t go spinning, but the shock had caused her to let go of her breath. A rush of salt water entered her mouth, the cold shooting through her insides. It wasn’t painful, it was refreshing. More refreshing than a glass of cool water on a sunny day. She drank it all in and smiled. As if it were her inaugural sip, she decided from there on that she wanted to swim and drown in these waves. 

       Her window had framed her love like a photograph. 

Process

For a period of time, I was writing what I call “subtle fanfiction”. Inspired by fictional works I love, I took certain aspects of fictional characters and created new characters and stories. This piece (at least its first draft) was an example of that. This piece was originally created as a short metaphorical story that was inspired by the romantic relationship of two characters. This piece stayed as a first draft for a long time, up until admissions were open for the Scholastic contest. I brought it to one of my pair sessions, where my mentor Kate and I looked it over. While there were some small grammatical edits made, the biggest piece of advice my mentor gave me was to hone in on the story. By removing the romantic aspects and focusing on this character, the piece became much stronger. This is a shorter version of the piece I submitted to Scholastic and is one of my favorite pieces.