Waves

• Madeline Stephens, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2020

The water was fluid, swift and beautiful, folding and molding, a crease never found.
It swelled and each time I caught my breath. As it returned to the sea, air returned to my lungs. I felt it fold and mold in me just like the waves, and it stung.
It stung because I longed for it.
I longed for freedom like that which the ocean had. I breathed it in. The salt stung my eyes, allowing my tears to flow. They stung my cheeks, filling me with the truth I knew well but tried hard to ignore.
I shifted, turning away from the beckoning sea. I hadn’t noticed how long I’d sat there. Hadn’t noticed the moon fading below the waves.
I went to turn my head back to the sea, where my heart was. But I didn’t. Tears stung my face. But even once they’d hit the ground, the pain lingered. The truth. My dreams wouldn’t come true. I left the waves, their cries fading into a mere thought.
Could I go back? And if I could, could I ever leave?
Once I’d returned to the building I used to call home, I followed a path so worn from use, it was close to discovery. I snuck through an open window. The nuns would all be sleeping, and wouldn't notice my return.
I found my bunk and lay awake. Was destiny keeping me from the waves? Or was it yearning me to go? I wanted it so bad, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I knew I’d be free in a year but I couldn’t wait. Not anymore.
As quick as I dared, I crept from the window, just like always. But this wasn’t another always. This was my second trip in one night. My last trip I’d ever make. Because the longing was so strong. I slid the window closed as quietly as I could and made my way to the cliff’s edge for the last time. I made my way down the slope. I felt so free. So happy, I could smile again.
Climbing a rock, I followed the water’s movements. With the swell of the tide, I dove,
swaddled in darkness. Finally where I’d dreamed to be, I remembered all the times I’d spent watching from above.
I didn’t feel the sting of my lungs until too late. I let my lungs release, leaving me breathless. To fill the space, water flowed in. All the pain I’d felt before could never compare with this. It burned like fire and crept through me like poison.
The water was fluid. Swift and beautiful. Folding and molding. Never a crease to be found. But I was not water. Destiny didn’t steer me like the moon did with the waves. Destiny was made of choices. This was mine. My destiny. My choice.
The water was fluid. Swift and beautiful.
Folding a blanket and molding a tomb.
I was a crease. And I would never be found.