From the shoreline, I can barely make out the movement. It's too dark out there, all those thousands of miles to the horizon. Only the moonlight on her eyes lets me know she's still out there, looking back at me balefully.
It seems like years I've been standing on this rocky shore, where once she stood with me. The sun still shone, then. The loathsome sun that illuminated that wretched isle on which she stands, tattered, the light no longer emanating from her once effulgent hair. Worn. Weary. Only her eyes let me know it's still her. Her frightened eyes. No other trace of her former beauty remains.
Her little prison had seemed so pretty then; the sand glistening in the sun. Soft, warm sand. The rocky slab underfoot could not hope to compete, I suppose. Still, she'd loved this place once.
But one day, while I napped under that loathsome sun, she swam, leaving a note not to follow. She swam with every inch of her, swam until it seemed to me that her heart must surely burst from the strain. Frantic. Driven by God knows what. Running from demons she could not escape, she swam, and she swam more. The sun raced her to the horizon and won. For what had seemed like forever, I lost sight of her entirely.
Until finally she walked ashore. For just an instant I saw the moonlight shine off her perfect hair. So long had I stared into that damned blackness that this new bit of light seemed it would surely blind me. Only for an instant. Then she collapsed in that sand.
For a long while she laid still. I wondered if the swim had killed her after all, until I saw her tiny silhouette yawn and stretch, and I realized she was sleeping, and was glad. She was alright, then.
Some time later, a storm appeared on the horizon. My first thought was of her. I looked off into the distance to see that the tiny island on which she had slept could barely be seen. The storm tide had engulfed it, so that now her tiny silhouette was without feet or ankles. She paced the shoreline that no longer was, perhaps contemplating leaving that place, but in the end she stayed.
The storm never did come. It only threatened, but finally abated and was gone. When the storm tide ebbed, and I looked off to see my friend, I saw that her little island had returned, but something was different. There was less of it than before. The storm had taken part of her sand paradise out to sea with it.
The sun was out again, and I could see in its hateful light that the threat of the storm had taken a toll on her. With her little island below the sea, she'd had nowhere to lay and sleep. Even all those miles away I sense that some light in her had dimmed, if only slightly.
Still, she seemed content with her now-shrunk plot of land; it was her own. No one else's. No one to answer to -- only the island and the sea. She collapsed and slept, exhausted, but at peace once again.
It was only a matter of time before another storm threatened our little corner of the world. Just as before it came and blocked out the sun, and at the time I still cared enough to wish it hadn't. Unlike before though, this storm didn't leave its threat an empty one. Slowly it lurked towards us, bringing the hellish tide with it. This time when I looked out to her, I saw that the ocean had swallowed her all the way to her waist. Her tiny silhouette danced with fear, her hands holding her head by her still-luxurious hair as if it might run off without her.
That night was a long one. I worried for her terribly. From across that infinite sea, her eyes searched for mine and found them readily. As the storm swept through and the tide swelled and ebbed, taunting, we watched each other. Finally my fear got the best of me and I shouted to her. I shouted at the top of my lungs to her to please come back to the rocks, where it was safe. I shouted until I thought my lungs would collapse and I would never breath again. I shouted until my voice cracked and I could shout no more, and I kept shouting, until I passed out from the effort.
But she heard nothing. She could only see my frantic gestures -- the wind and the distance stole the rest of my fearful plea. When I woke, the sun had returned, and I saw her sitting, head in hands, staring despondently into the sea. She sat like that a good while. Her island was now hardly big enough for her to sit. I tried shouting to her, hoping that with the storm gone she might this time hear my pleas. But alas, my voice was still gone, and so I sat. I sat and stared despondently at her as she sat and stared despondently into the sea.
At one point, she stood, and I thought she might attempt the swim back. Instead, she took a few steps into the water and reached into it. I watched as her tiny silhouette pulled from the sea a tiny handful of sand. Baffled, I could only watch. She considered the sand for a moment, then carried it to the center of her now tiny island and dropped it there. I might have laughed if it were anyone but her, as I realized she was trying to rebuild her tiny island. She worked franticly at first, most likely worried that another storm might blow through before she could finish her pitiful task. Slowly she lost her gusto. By the time she stopped, she was absolutely battered from the effort. Muddy sand caked to her and covered her from head to toe. Her hair now had none of its former luster. Her step had none of its former glide. Her island was bigger, though. Just big enough to lay on. She slept.
And then she woke. Maybe it was my staring that woke her, my hopes and prayers finally reaching her across all that endless sea. More likely though, it was the boom of thunder, and the flash of lightning just past the horizon. Regardless, she woke. She woke, and she stood. She stands. She stares. She stares at me. Now.
The storm races towards us, and I try my hand at shouting to her again. Nothing. I try as hard as I possibly can and no sound but a weak and pitiful cry escapes me. She only stares, frightful. I begin to panic. The storm is almost upon us. Why won't she swim? She could still make it!
The fear in her eyes makes my blood boil. But as I continue to stare at her, pleadingly, I realize there is something besides fear in those eyes. Something even more loathsome: Hopelessness. Her stare is panicked, but steady. Frantic, but calm. Terrified, but relaxed. She has accepted this fate. She is too tired to make the long swim back home.
I lose it. Diving into the sea, I forget all the distance between us. I swim. The waves batter and toss me. I fight them. I swim with all my might. I have to reach her. I have to bring her back. The waves are too large. I can't see her. I swim anyway. The storm could be blowing me entirely off course, but I swim anyway. I don't know what else to do. A big wave comes and sweeps me up for a moment above it all. Into the sky. From up there, it seems like I've barely moved from my own island. I can see her now, down below, still off in the distance, floating. She seems no closer than before.
I get only this tiny glimpse before I am tossed carelessly once more into the sea. I continue my swim. My arms ache. I've been swimming for hours now. The sea is sucking the life out of me; stealing the water from my body and making it its own. My mouth is dry. My breathing is in gasps. My arms burn and become numb, but still i swim.
Another wave picks me up. At the top, I see that my friend is no closer now than she was. For a moment, there in the sky, above the massive sea, I wonder how this can be. Only for a moment. Then it hits me. She's swimming away from me.
The wave tosses me back into the sea. I redouble my efforts, swimming faster than I ever would have suspected I could. As I swim, I cry out. My voice has come back, but now the waves hide my voice. The wind sucks it away, sometimes even blowing it back at me, mockingly. Why does she swim from me?
I'm still swimming as the storm begins to abate. So is she. Swimming away. Now the waves are gone. I can see her clearly on the horizon -- only her head remains above water, and she's so tiny in the distance. I swim with everything I have, but the storm has bested me. I can't even feel my limbs anymore. My best effort and all my will can barely summon my legs to budge, let alone propel me forward. Still she swims from me. Even as I struggle to stay afloat, my every thought is of reaching her, and taking her back to safety.
Finally, I drown, and sometime later, I imagine she does as well.
