The Arms Of The Ocean

• Brooke Allan, Grade 9, Ravenswood School for Girls
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

The soft clear blue waves lift me up and ease me back down, my smile staying uncontained.
How long have I been out here, with my joy ignoring the hours ticking by? Mum must be able to see me. I look to the beach. I lost track of time.
I get lost in my search for mum. I am so lost in my worry, it takes a while to notice the tugging. The waves have lost their playfulness. They pull at me, thirsting for me. I look at the beach. It shrinks. The water sucks at me. Panic clamps at my chest. I know what a rip is.
I know it kills.
My hands that have been treading water become frantic paddles, pushing my head out from the water. The beach shrinks, recoiling from the water that laps at it, trying to pull the sand, out to join me. I go from trying to notify her of my safety, to wanting her to worry, for her to come get me. I try to call to her, so she sees my disappearing head, but the water forces itself into my mouth, choking me. I gargle, spitting the water out, but more surges for me. More panic rips into my chest, seizing my heart, squeezing it. My hands splash the surface, trying to send a signal to those on the beach.
I try to scream, but my mouth has fallen into the clutches of the cold water. Bubbles rise from my silenced cry for help. Tears form in my eyes.
Help. I try to scream, but the water forces itself down my throat, searing it.
Please.
Tears spill down but are lost in the hungry mouth that tries to swallow me.
I’m so tired. I want to curl up in a ball and sleep. My hand reaches for the surface. You don’t need air when you sleep, do you? Something pushes out of my nose, my mouth. I see bubbles of precious air rushing to the surface. I want to follow them. My eyes sting, and I squeeze them shut. The fog removes the thoughts from my pounding head, and I want to thank it. Those thoughts were making me panic, and I can’t remember why. Then my burning lungs remind me – I need air. I gasp. My throat burns. How can fire singe my throat? It’s underwater. I want to sleep. I’m so tired. Water presses into me, crushing me. Which way is up? I don’t know anything anymore. My throat burns. My lungs will explode. I am so tired. I just want to sleep. To wake up, in my bed.
My head pounds.
Can’t breathe.
Must breathe.
Can’t.
I suck in more water
I must sleep.
I can’t wake up. So I let myself fall.
And I fall into the arms of the peaceful ocean, glad that I no longer have to stay in that world with too much of a crowd.