Mottled blood that powdered on touch, with fingers stained red I traced the
jagged edges of someone’s bite. Sturdy yet brittle a piece fell off. Waves
crashed as she called for a game. Protesting for my attention, she called out
louder.
Sprayed by the ocean, I giggled
and ran. She heaved a warning and I dodged the next spray. She warned me again,
but I was caught. Laughter and giggles resounded around us as she called me for
the next game.
I ran along the shores, feet
digging deep into the sand while dodging crabs that scuttled by. Some hid in
their shells and others waved their claws in warning. She roared in laughter
and chased me once more, spraying my feet and hair.
I ran, and ran till I couldn’t,
and with a fit of giggles, flopped on the sand. Protesting slightly as she
bathed my feet, I faced her disgruntled. Drenching me to the bone I let out a
yelp of surprise and ran towards her in protest. In apology she held me gently and
I settled to listen to her lulling lullaby.
She would tell me of stories of
old, of times when I wasn’t yet born as she decorated my hair with seashells, ‘of
a time long past when she would wear the most beautiful of dresses for every
occasion . . . a dress of topaz blue would be for a nice sunny day, another of
a million blues and reds for the wedding of her daughters, another made of
corals for festivals celebrated in her realm.’
She would sound sad as she told
me these stories, as though those times of long past would never return, for
these days she wore a sad blue for the death of her many children and though
she weeps for her children, she always smiles for me and spends her time with
me, a someone who has no one. But that’s a lie, isn’t it? I have a friend and
she’s called the sea.
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