My friend the sea

A hint to the story

Written without prompts or a topic, I looked to some of my childhood memories for this piece. As such, the piece is written from the imagination of a young child.

The first part is in reference to iron railings that have rusted away, before talking about the child running along the shores of the beach. It’s a short but sweet story about the friendship of a child and the sea.

My friend the sea

Mottled blood that powdered on touch, with fingers stained red I traced the jagged edges of someone’s bite. Sturdy yet brittle a piece fell off. Waves crashed as she called for a game. Protesting for my attention, she called out louder.

Sprayed by the ocean, I giggled and ran. She heaved a warning and I dodged the next spray. She warned me again, but I was caught. Laughter and giggles resounded around us as she called me for the next game.

I ran along the shores, feet digging deep into the sand while dodging crabs that scuttled by. Some hid in their shells and others waved their claws in warning. She roared in laughter and chased me once more, spraying my feet and hair.

I ran, and ran till I couldn’t, and with a fit of giggles, flopped on the sand. Protesting slightly as she bathed my feet, I faced her disgruntled. Drenching me to the bone I let out a yelp of surprise and ran towards her in protest. In apology she held me gently and I settled to listen to her lulling lullaby.

She would tell me of stories of old, of times when I wasn’t yet born as she decorated my hair with seashells, ‘of a time long past when she would wear the most beautiful of dresses for every occasion . . . a dress of topaz blue would be for a nice sunny day, another of a million blues and reds for the wedding of her daughters, another made of corals for festivals celebrated in her realm.’

She would sound sad as she told me these stories, as though those times of long past would never return, for these days she wore a sad blue for the death of her many children and though she weeps for her children, she always smiles for me and spends her time with me, a someone who has no one. But that’s a lie, isn’t it? I have a friend and she’s called the sea.

Copyright © Anjali Shibu 2015. All rights reserved.