The Memory

• Betty Geng, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2016

I hang on to the edge of the cliff with my fingertips, in the midst of a great swirling substance, not liquid nor gas. I try looking around. A wave of silver plummets into me, like a newborn thought.
I choke and splutter, and my grip slips away. I tumble downwards, and scrabbling on the wall, I find a hold a bit further down.
The silvery substance has gone. I look up and find that I’m in a tall bottle, with a round bottom that contains…
I stretch my arm and lower my head to get a closer look. There’s a vast sheet of water below me, with low cliffs that stop the water from ruling the whole surface of the world on the left side.
My left side, I should say. The bottle had begun to spin. I bump around on the wall, acting like an angry horse trying to buck its rider off. I slide further down the rocky surface of the cliff.
The vast sheet of water has begun to ripple and move. I watch as a two people emerge from under the waves, laughing and shrieking as they swim towards the shore on the other side, the low cliffs. I can’t see their faces. One person starts talking in a loud, deep voice. Something about that voice is so familiar I gasp.
“Yer know it's good that there are no sharks ‘ere today, ‘ickey,” the booming voice continues. “Com’ on, we’re goin’ ter be seen if we don’t be quick—”
That’s Max. He was killed by a shark the day he went out with Nicky to swim in the part of the ocean that was illegal. Rule-breaking, he liked. Nicky refused to tell me any more after. To her was nothing sadder than this.
A huge pack of sharks came swimming along, unnoticed by Max and his friend. The sharks kept swimming along, causing a ripple and wake in the glistening water, beautiful to the eye who did not sense danger.
I shrieked and screamed, trying to get Max and Nicky to hear me. I don’t know if this is a chance to bring Max alive, but I was taking the opportunity. No particle of my brain was focused on hanging onto the cliff face. As a result, I was brought splashing into the water.
One shark turned around, sensing the unusual movement in the water, followed by the other sharks. They began gliding towards me. I thrash around in the water, panicking. I can’t swim. I watch underwater as the leader of the shark gang circled me, preparing to strike. I started to sink. Turning around I looked at the cliff. I reached out but couldn’t touch it, couldn’t. I might be able to swap my life for Max’s. But this must be a memory, not the real thing.
One nagging question filled every particle of my brain, blocking out every physical feeling— how was I going to get out of this place?