A Choice

• Alesia Riches, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2019

The world doesn’t dare move as my feet drift along the wooden staircase, as my toes call out for the sand. The wind, in all its fragility, restrains its breath, but releases silent whispers that tousle among my hair and its short, blond strands. A smile escapes the tight line that forms my lips and as i take a last glimpse at the path that once was behind me, as it dissolves in the haze and although still there, I cannot shake the feeling that tells me I won’t be seeing it again. A saline gasp embraces my skin, its cool familiarity, refreshing. I sigh. The skies, a piercing blue, focus my eyes along the horizon of the shimmering seas. My heartbeat increases, a stampede of stallions, pounding in my chest. I lunge, down what remains of the old boarded staircase, as i trample over its weathered spine. My spirit soars as my feet land and I stop, at a standstill, my gaze hovering over the waves. The foaming tongues lick at the edge of the sandy mouth, a rolling carpet of unsuppressed freedom, lays beyond it. And that is where i am going, that is where i long to be.
I tumble, through the surface, ripping apart a once smooth skin, arising bubbles that penetrate its surface. Its coldness, comforts me, its wildness, reassuring. I become enfolded in its waters, gliding under its layers, within the raging currents that pulse and swell like the chambers in a heart. But like life, so is the unpredictability of the ocean. In an instance, it turns. It’s once steady rhythm dissipates, into one of panic. I struggle against its steely grip, thrashing at the waters that are now my captors. It’s suffocating, the dragging and relentlessness of its power. I’m caught as it strives, to flood into my lungs. But by some miracle, i break the surface and look to the skies above, no longer blue but a sickening grey, there is something that brews amongst its darkened clouds. I scream but nothing awakens from my throat. I cry but no tears slip my eyes. I’m caught in crippling dread that rises from my heart. I claw at the waves, unable to move. Thunder crackles and shakes the worlds above, lightning sparks and illuminates the sinister gloom. Then comes the rain. Bullets rattle off my face and I turn, in hope of someone, anyone, being back on that beach. Sickness boils within as I realise, suddenly, there is no land. I am stuck, in the place that i loved but i have never feared more. Then comes the hands. Everywhere, swift hands, surface from the water even in its fury, even with its bouldering waves, they rise. They send a message as i succumb to the waves. As my body drifts down into a bed, now unfamiliar, on the ocean floor, i see what it was the hands were saying. Who do you choose to save in a world where everyone’s drowning?