Under The Sea

• Linda Kor, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2016

I bury my bare feet into the warm golden sand, wriggling my toes. To my left, the foamy cream waves crash along the ocean’s shoreline and there are children splashing in the water and chasing each other. Above the sea, the seagulls are flying in a circular formation, squawking and eyeing their prey in the chaotic water below. I pause momentarily gazing at the squealing children before climbing back up the damp stairs and onto the roasted cobble-stoned pathway, quickly slipping on my plimsolls and heading in the right direction towards Shelly Beach.

As I approach the winding road, I spot the old ice-cream parlour with its dull peeling paint now a vibrant coat of fuchsia and mint. An unfamiliar spicy pang wafts through the air of the surrounding stores; a bustling Thai takeaway with colourful patterned tapestries and beaded sashes lining the modest walls.

I wander towards the end of the road where the local café that my mother and I would stop by after our morning walks sits. The café is the only establishment, left untouched after the council begun it’s refurbishment plan, to turn the beach into a tourist attraction.

I turn to the left, hesitantly, before finally hooking my leg over the chain and leaping over landing and onto the giant rocks suspended at the water’s edge. I scan the porous surface and spot the scuttling crabs weaving their way in and out of the crevices. The tide rolls in and out, watering the holes of the inhabitant shells, living on the walls of the eroding rocks. I follow the shallow stream and it leads me to the rock pools that I haven’t seen since the first time I’d visited the area years ago with my parents and stumbled upon it with some of the locals. The pools, along with the ocean are the only remaining naturally occurring features of this modernised city. The rock pools are like a parfait, you have to get to the bottom to uncover the best part; the shiny smooth shells of clams and hermit crabs glimmering under the sun’s rays.

I distinctly remember the afternoons I’d spent on the beach with my family, as it was only a ten minute walk from where we currently lived. I’d be licking my rainbow paddle pop, perching on the edge and gazing into the depths of the pools. I’d even kept a journal in an attempt to figure out what all the different species living there were. I’d even given them names. The other kids would be splashing about in the ocean while I’d be sprawled out on the rocks staring intently into the water.

I take out my university course guide and flip to page 205, circling ‘marine biology’ with a red marker and scrawling ‘first choice’ above it. A sense of relief and fulfilment floods my emotions, knowing that I have finally found my calling. I now know that I am travelling in the right direction.