- I had a little holiday, and went to the beach, alone. I wrote this just completely consumed by the story the ocean tells when you visit as the sun sets. It is mostly complete rambling and quite short for my usual one-shot, but I felt the need to come up with it.
The Gift of the Sea.
The surf was chasing her feet. Fuelled with a determination was the sea to capture her ankles in a cool, blissful rinse. She held back. Retreating back at each chase it gave.
The early morning breeze was refreshing without any bitterness. As though it was welcoming her to the chase. To join in the play. Enticing her forwards into the waves.
She watched the remainders of the sunset blend to the clouds and the grey and blue clouds chase away any remainders until the next morning. This was a new dawn. A new day. Welcoming her into its arms.
It was the sound, though, which invigorated her the most. Not yet enough to entice her. It was simply intriguing enough. Like an introduction to nature's music for the very first time.
The waves rolling upon the deserted shores weren't like hearing waves break against the propellers of a ship. It was in this roughness she found peace, rather than gazing at a calm and flat body of water. The way that the water was always in a rush to sweep upwards to the beach, caressing the sand smoothly before rolling backwards.
She was shivering, not quite from the cool freshness of the morning but something quite unexplained. Unexpectedly.
All signs of life were gone. And it was as though only she existed in this breathtaking abyss of sea and sand and sky.
As the surface drew closer, it dragged with it signs of life within the sea. So clear as it greeted her before rolling back to the deep.
Shells and rocks littered the firm and damp sand, signs of life from the sea. Beyond the land. Beyond her mind. Beyond anything she would ever know.
Taking both a smooth cream rock in her hand and a fractured navy, and light blue shell she held them together feeling the roughness to the smooth. The grains of sand which felt exfoliating against her pads. Taking the rock in her right hand, she threw it low and to her surprise it skipped. One…two times. Splashing the surf before sinking and the waves started their chase to the beach once more. She retrieved another shell; smooth and tinged pink. It was delicate and pretty. Another sign of life within the waters. The entire beach seemed to be decorated with wonderful colours, of all shapes and sizes…shells, rocks, crab claws, stones and washed up bits of seaweed. In her hands, she rubbed the shell with her shawl and smiled, as it glimmered at her.
Two gulls stood huddled, as though waiting for breakfast to present itself. The waves chased them back, and within seconds, they were back to the edge of the surf; waiting.
The surf was beyond clear; so perfectly crystal that it was almost inviting to one's bare feet but perhaps, she wasn't quite ready for that yet. Inhaling the sea air, she felt how it cleansed out her lungs and when she exhaled it was as though she was internally just that little bit cleaner. That little less darker. That little less…haunted.
As haunting as the sea had been to her for a number of years, now, as she felt the salty sprays of the waves upon her face. Her eyes watched the distance with such clear clarity. A little fishing boat was leaving the pier, clad with rods and she could make out three figures huddled aboard. A couple strolled, hand in hand across the top of the pier, peering over at the sea momentarily before retreating to the bench to rest. More seagulls flocked to the surf, enticed by the scent of sea life. And then, there was her.
Rose Dawson.
Her thin shawl billowed about in the early morning flurry of salty air. And in that coolness, as it tickled about her hair, and gently tossed aside some tendrils, it brought the familiar sound of his beautiful voice.
Go to the surf, Rose, you can do it.
A knowing smile curled her lips, as though she held a secret that no one else could know. Suddenly, she was closing her eyes to view two figures within her mind and they were dancing. Chasing. Endlessly happy.
Don't fear the sea, Rose.
And she did. She had for so long that it had prolonged her dream to come to this one sacred place which existed in their minds aboard a ship just two years ago. Together, with Jack Dawson, their imagination had taken them beyond the rails of a ship. Beyond what she thought herself capable of. And that dream which had kept her sane in the times which she thought insanity would be creeping in. His voice guided her when she felt completely at a loss of what to do. And it had led her here on a cool, September morning to the edge of the surf. The Pacific Ocean. Santa Monica.
In her mind, she had painted quite the picture of this place. And once she had come to stand beside the vast construction of the roller coaster. Heard the wonderful sound of the amusements. The dancing. The laughter. The bearded fisherman who sat drinking the same cheap ale that Jack had described the flavour of, the colour of the sky and the palettes of the sunsets and sunrises which welcomed the West Coast to a new dawn and a new night. Each one welcomed new choices, new chances and for Rose, a new life.
The surf washed further, the tide grew closer to her, and soon she would be backed against the old rocky wall or be engulfed into the abyss. Clutching the shells to her chest, she dug them into her palms until they were purely white and almost drew a speck of blood.
You can do it, Rose.
It approached her, without any warning, rushing forth as though time was running out before it would claim her. The slight wave covered her ankles and she gasped aloud as it soaked into the hems of her dress before rushing away; giving just a brief taste before its return moments later. It was cool. And she giggled as her toes sank into the sand beneath her feet. It was a rare and odd moment of pure bliss, and with the gentle breeze came his beautiful voice, caressing across her skin and into her ears.
I love you, Rose, I am with you.
Through watery lined eyes, she glanced across the vastness of the sea, and how now, instead of being some kind of an enemy, it seemed to be offering her some sort of a gift. A gift of another life. Another chance.
When you got nothin', you got nothin' to lose. He had once said to her. And she had left behind everything for a life with a man she loved. But when the ocean had claimed that dream, cutting it down dead, she had been left with nothing…
So what did she have to lose?
Inching forward, with her toes now completely covered in sat, she surged onwards to meet the waves halfway and then, she was welcomed. It was wet. Cold. Cleansing. Tickling across her ankles, seeping into her dress. Seeping into her soul.
When she laughed, it was from happiness, and for the first time in the longest, the blackness which had clouded her heart since the sinking of the Titanic, turned to a grey and then faded off to a smoky wisp of nothing.
That's the gift of the sea, she heard him say. Don't think of it that way. It didn't claim me. But it claimed your spirit. Your fire. Now that has to return, my Rose.
And, so the one thing which she had long since blamed for claiming the one she loved, gifting her with something else…
It was difficult to rebuild. To gain trust. To stand there with her legs submerged into the coolness, and her dress tangling about her legs. But somehow, she was starting to find that when she gazed out, past the fisherman, and the waves…that this could be her heaven.
Turning East to face the rollercoaster, she followed the superstructure upwards to see the sprawling curls of it. Her stomach curled right there along with it.
You can do it, Rose.
And so she did.
She rode the roller coaster.
She drank cheap beer.
And when the sun came, she rode a horse on the beach.
Right in the surf. Like a real cowboy. That's it! Jack seemed to urge her and when the horse finally descended into a gallop; that is when she finally reached her point of full freedom, with the sea spraying across her face, her hair and arms. Just as she had at the bow of the Titanic, with Jack's arms guiding her. Holding her. Never letting go…
I'll never let go, she thought she heard as the horse had come to a canter once more. And she didn't hear his voice again.
Coming to a stop, she glanced out across the ocean and felt the peace which had been gifted to her.
Santa Monica would be her home.