Ocean Pearl

• Helen Lovegrove, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2020

The ocean is cold as I dive in. Cold water, to go with the pale, icy blue colour it becomes in autumn. I open my eyes, and stare down at the ocean floor. Sandy, but rocks on my left. I surface, take another breath, and dive down again to investigate the rocks. I know that’s a section of reef there that rises above the water to form an islet. Swimming strongly, I touch a brown rock on the bottom. It’s covered in seaweed, brown mossy stuff that makes rocks slippery to run on at high tide. My ears pop as I surface, and I yawn as I take in my surroundings. There’s no waves in sight, nothing to cause a danger. I stroke over to the islet, perched on top of the water like a brown egg.
As I swim round it, I notice a dark hole in the seaward side. Standing on the rocks underfoot, I clamber towards the islet, trying not to slip. It’s definitely a cave. A shadowy hole, reaching right inside the islet. This calls for an exploration.

I stand right in the entrance to the cave. The islet itself is only about ten metres long, and about that wide. But there appears to be a passageway, heading steeply down, water lapping on the floor. I step slowly in, my feet feeling the ground underneath for any holes or hazards. My eyes widen, adjusting to the dim light in front of me. I step forward and down again, and see a wall in front of me. To my left, the passageway continues. With even greater caution, I turn and follow it.
The passageway spirals around, making what I believe is a full circuit around the inside of the islet, before light starts to return. The water is at waist level, cold in the darkness. I take another step, and the wall to my right disappears.

The cavern inside has a small hole in the roof, allowing light to enter and sparkle on the water. The water is at waist height, with small ripples splashing against the walls of the cave every now and then from tiny disturbances under the surface. I duck my head underwater, and see that the bottom is sandy. Around the walls there are dark holes, presumably allowing water from the wider ocean in and out. In the centre, however, is a strangely shaped large rock. I slowly wade over to it, and realise my mistake. It’s not a rock. It’s a giant clam. I reach down, and touch its surface. It’s rough, and covered in seaweed. I watch it, but then jump backwards, nearly falling over, as it springs open. It lies gaping on the sandy floor, still. I duck my head underwater, and look inside. It’s smooth and brown, but there’s a flash of white. I look closer, and see it lying there, huge, white, glistening. A pearl.