Voices Of The Sea

• Esther Mercer, Grade 7, Manly West Secoundary School
• Short Story
• 2001

Finalist in the 'Zapped! 2001' competition

Overhead the blue sky was broken only by a tiny white seagull which circled slowly in the salt air. Far below the Southern Ocean swelled and sucked at the rocky cliff. Crashing and striking like venomous snakes at the little yellow row boat, which was all smashed and holding together by two rusty old nails, were the monstrous waves. Directly above was a ledge with a white cross on it. The ledge seemed deserted and desolated. The cross was old and braking to pieces. You could just see it hidden by patches of long, dead grass which towered over it. There were old beer bottles smashed on the ledge and directly in front was a rose, a blood red rose which was starting to curl like dry paint. The sea was flat and mirrored the glassy clouds that were starting to beckon from the horizon.
Some friends walking on the beach. Their footprints were fading away in the sand as the waves skimmed over them. Suddenly they caught a glimpse of what they thought was a rowboat and a figure far out in the distance. They stopped. Up ahead they could sea the cross of Emily Simpson and the exact rowboat as they saw far out in the sea. A silence fell over the sea and the land. Not even the waves could be heard. The air seemed to be filled with silent sobbing as they remembered the death of Emily Simpson last year.
The sea was a blue blanket tossed upon the land. The sky was clear with no clouds in sight. On the corner of the cove was a house. It was old and yellow in colour with an orange front door. This house belonged to Emily Simpson’s parents, Gary and Rachel, who worked in the whale watching business. A year ago Emily Simpson was ten years old, she had long, brown, wavy hair, which she wore up in a ponytail, her eyes were like owls and her figure was tall and skinny. Emily owned her own yellow row boat and she loved to row out into the vast ocean until she was as small as a grain of rice.
One day, Emily was caught in the mouth of a furious storm. She pushed out her rowboat and knifed a furrow through the inky water. Soon the sea didn’t feel the same or smell the same. She thought she heard voices – watery, giggling voices. Emily looked around but there were no boats in sight. Emily was all alone on an enameled ocean. The boat started to drift out further and soon the shore was a thin line in the distance. The boat began to gentle rock and Emily felt it gripped in a strong current. It was carrying her further away from the land. Emily tried to reach for the oars but they snapped loose. The waves gradually started to evolve into giants. They crashed and broke in Emily’s boat. It was like two enormous lobsters were holding the boat over a pot of boiling water.
It was only a matter of time until people on the land started to wonder and worry about Emily and send out a search party. When the party reached Emily in her dad’ boat the sea was angrier then ever. The waves were like bombs exploding in Emily’s boat. Crow black clouds towered over the sea sending bullets of rain down. With out any notice a mammoth wave came and crashed in Emily’s boat and flipped it over. There was no trace of Emily.
After a full-scale search nothing was found. She had vanished, been eaten by the sea. Two weeks later a fisherman found Emily’s body in her little yellow rowboat, which was smashed on a rock.
Trickles of tears started to pour down from the heavens as the friends made their way along the cove to their homes.