Desideratum
Desideratum (noun): something wanted or needed
Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians
The waves crashed angrily on the beach, long fingers of foamy white combing the sand into an abstract of incomprehensible lines. A deep roaring sound rose from the blue waters and mixed with the keening of the wind above, the two tones creating an eerie melody that echoed against the nearby cliffs. In the midst of the chaos, hidden amongst the long grasses of the beach, there sat a small cabin.
The wood was a worn brown, with chinking that might have been white at some point, but now shone a dirty gray. Battered shutters framed surprisingly clean windows, and a small stone path led from the front door down to the edge of the water.
It was here, at the end of the path, that a small girl could be seen. She didn't seem to be bothered by the cacophony surrounding her, or the wind that tore at her short hair. In fact, her entire attention was focused on a small sand castle that sat at her feet, and her brow furrowed in concentration as she observed her creation.
The wind died down for a moment, leaving behind an unnatural silence. It was just then that an elder woman appeared at the door to the hut, her brown eyes scouring the shoreline and landing on the child.
"Sarah!" the woman called. "This is your last warning, come in now!"
The girl—Sarah—looked towards the speaker. She hesitated, shooting a longing glance towards at the castle she had been working so hard on, but the watchful gaze of the elder woman kept Sarah moving until she had reached the house and was safely inside.
The end of September was fast approaching when Sarah met the strange man. She had been out on the beach, determined to make the most of her little playground before the weather grew too cold, and she had spotted him sitting a little ways down the shore, staring into the sea.
Curiosity peaked, Sarah approached the man, albeit cautiously. Her mother had warned her time and again to never talk to strangers, but nobody ever came down to this part of the beach, and so Sarah couldn't help but wonder who he was. Besides, the man looked nice. Dark hair covered his head and decorated his face in a neat beard. Khaki Bermuda shorts blended in with the sandy beach, while a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt stood out above everything else.
Before Sarah knew it she was standing directly behind the man, who seemed to take no notice of her presence. She half expected him to jump in surprise when she finally reached out to hesitantly tap his shoulder, but still the man gave no response. Gathering her courage, Sarah seated herself next to the man and gazed up into his face.
"Hey mister, are you alright?" she questioned, overly aware of how large the man was in comparison to her small frame. The man's face remained unmoved, as if he hadn't heard her. Sarah stared at him in confusion for a while longer, shifting uncomfortably, before deciding that perhaps she needed to leave. She was startled when the man finally spoke, his voice deep and resonant.
"Thank you for asking, little one." He said. "I'm fine, just have a lot on my mind." The man turned towards Sarah, and she felt calmed by the kind light he seemed to have in his eyes.
Feeling encouraged and somewhat emboldened by the man's friendly response, Sarah addressed the stranger again.
"My Papa says he's got a lot on his mind too, but when he starts to get too cranky, Mama sits him down and makes him tell her what's wrong." She offered. Ducking her head shyly, Sarah studied the multicolored grains of sand beneath her as she continued.
"Um…if you want…" she began, "If you want you could tell me what's wrong." Sarah rushed the end of her offer, afraid of being too nosy, like some of the kids at school said. To her immense surprise, the man broke out into a deep booming laughter.
"Share my problems with you, eh?" The man laughed again, and Sarah hesitantly joined.
"While I appreciate the offer, there are some things I'm afraid I'll just have to figure out on my own." The man answered, not unkindly, but with somewhat of a sad look on his face. Sarah suddenly felt very sorry for the poor man who sat alone on the beach with too much on his mind. In a way, he reminded her of Papa— desperately in need of advice but unable to turn to anyone for help.
"That's stupid." Sarah wrinkled her nose as she talked to emphasize her distaste. "Nobody should have to figure out hard problems on their own. Mama and Papa help me whenever I don't understand math."
The man glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, amused.
"Be that as it may," he said. "I'm afraid this problem is not something for a little girl, even one as mature as yourself."
Sarah blushed at the compliment, but refused to give up her argument.
"Fine then," she compromised. "You don't have to tell me, but there must be somebody you can talk to!"
The man gave another quiet chuckle.
"There is nobody who understands the facts better then I do. This problem is my own."
Sarah held back a sigh, suddenly exasperated by the stupid adult who wouldn't just listen. How could she make him understand?
"Maybe this problem is something you can figure out, but everybody needs help sometimes!" she argued. Her little blonde head swung wildly as she searched for inspiration, her gaze landing on the water. "It's like…like the sea!" she exclaimed triumphantly. The man raised his eyebrow, so Sarah elaborated.
"Your problem is like the sea." She rephrased. "I play out on the beach every day. I know the whole shoreline really well, but all I ever get to see of the ocean is the waves and the pretty different shades of blue." Sarah took a breath and continued.
"But Papa took me on a snorkeling trip once." She couldn't help but smile at the memory.
"The water that had looked the same for so long was totally different underneath! There were so many pretty fish and plants, and it was all really colorful. From underneath, the sea didn't look anything like I was used to. It was so cool!"
Sarah glanced at the man to see if he understood.
"So maybe, all you need is for someone else to look at whatever is bothering you, right? Maybe they'll see something different." Sarah finished her little speech, and for a moment the two sat there in silence, Sarah awkwardly searching for something else to say and the man with a surprised expression on his face. The silence was broken when the stranger once again broke out into his deep booming laughter.
"Like the sea." He muttered, shaking his head and looking down at Sarah.
"Perhaps you're right." He said. Sarah felt a blush dust her cheeks and she raised her head a little in pride.
"Of course I'm right." She bragged, and the man reached down to ruffle her hair.
"Thank you for the advice," he said, "but I have to go. It was nice meeting you…" the man trailed off, his green eyes searching her face expectantly.
"Sarah." She supplied.
"Sarah," he repeated, before muttering under his breath once more, "Like the sea! What a strange metaphor."
Sarah watched as the man got up and ruffled her hair again before turning and strolling down the beach, occasionally chuckling under his breath at some unheard joke. Within minutes the stranger was nothing but a small speck in the distance. Sarah waited until he had completely disappeared before turning and running back towards her house, hoping to be at the door to greet Mama when she arrived.
The next day, Sarah once again returned to her little patch of beach to resume construction on her sand castle. By now the construct was nearly up to her waist in height, and rapidly gaining detail. As she approached the castle, something on top of the tallest turret caught her eye. A seashell, placed on the very tip of the tower, shone in the sunlight. Reaching forward to pick it out, Sarah took a moment to admire the shell's beauty before tucking it into her dress to show to Mama later. She could have sworn as she turned to the rest of the castle that the words Thank You were carved into the sand with elegant script, but the waves washed up and over the beach before Sarah could double check, erasing all evidence. Shrugging, Sarah turned and began her work. The sea behind her gently lapped against the shore in a soft rhythm, the calmest it had been in days.