Even though he was flying many thousands of feet above it, he could still feel the pull of the ocean. Its power over him was undeniable; especially since that night he met her. It was only a few years ago but he remembered it as if it were yesterday.
It was near dusk and he was in his boat. Plenty of times before he had ventured out into the open sea to escape from the island but this time was different. This time he was escaping from something specific. It was the seventh day and he was escaping from her. He knew she would come. He had seen it before. If he stayed out here all night then at dawn it would be safe to return to shore. That's what he thought at the time. After all, there were no televisions in the ocean.
How ignorant he was back then. Sitting on the plane, he laughed at his own ignorance. How could he have known that her appearance wasn't exclusive to televisions? Anything reflective would suffice. Looking back on it now, he realized what a colossal mistake it had been venturing out into the ocean. It was the single largest reflective surface on the planet. Once again he laughed at the ignorance he had shown. He was nothing but a big, sitting duck out there on the open water.
A duck that had paddled far from the shore until the shore had disappeared entirely from the horizon. Even if she came out of the nearest television to him she would not reach him in time, he remembered thinking. He was hoping that there was a time limit on her appearance. That if she couldn't get to him in time then he would be free from her grip.
Darkness settled in and the moon hung low in the nighttime sky. With each passing minute he grew more anxious and fearful. His eyes scanned the horizon expecting at any moment to see her approaching. The closer the moment got the quicker his head darted to and fro. It is time, he thought. Then, as if on cue, there was a thud from underneath the boat. He sat petrified. Another thud caused him to spring to his feet. The small boat almost capsized from the sudden movement. Several more thuds followed. Whatever it was, it was slowly moving along the length of the boat up to the bow. Once there it stopped and the night fell eerily silent.
For several minutes he stood there looking at the bow of the boat, waiting and expecting. But nothing happened. He sat back down and prepared to paddle away when a hand erupted from the sea and grabbed the bow. The other hand quickly followed. White knuckling the handles of the paddles, he sat, motionless. He stared at the hands at the other end of the boat and the same thought kept echoing in his head: there are no fingernails on those hands.
His eyes grew wider and wider as he watched the figure climb into the boat. Its moves were unnaturally jerky. He wanted to scream but couldn't find his voice. He recoiled as the figure stood up in the boat. He knew it was her, knew that his time had come. He had tried to cheat death and he had failed. Everything that he had worked so hard for in his life was now lost. Ultimately, though, he had lost very little... but gained so much.
He couldn't help but to laugh yet again at the ignorance he had shown that night on the boat. So much had he learned since then. So much had been bestowed upon him. It was a night that he would never forget. The details were burned into his psyche. And the ocean... the ocean, he now knew, descended to depths undreamed of. It was shortly after that night that he abandoned the ocean for the desert. Not due to fear though. No, he did not fear the ocean. It would always be his true home. He left it because he no longer needed it. The desert was what he needed now. The desert was a place where he could go to escape. Where she couldn't find him. Not that he feared her either. Not anymore anyway. But he still needed a place where no one, not even she, would disturb him.
It was near dusk and he was in his boat. Plenty of times before he had ventured out into the open sea to escape from the island but this time was different. This time he was escaping from something specific. It was the seventh day and he was escaping from her. He knew she would come. He had seen it before. If he stayed out here all night then at dawn it would be safe to return to shore. That's what he thought at the time. After all, there were no televisions in the ocean.
How ignorant he was back then. Sitting on the plane, he laughed at his own ignorance. How could he have known that her appearance wasn't exclusive to televisions? Anything reflective would suffice. Looking back on it now, he realized what a colossal mistake it had been venturing out into the ocean. It was the single largest reflective surface on the planet. Once again he laughed at the ignorance he had shown. He was nothing but a big, sitting duck out there on the open water.
A duck that had paddled far from the shore until the shore had disappeared entirely from the horizon. Even if she came out of the nearest television to him she would not reach him in time, he remembered thinking. He was hoping that there was a time limit on her appearance. That if she couldn't get to him in time then he would be free from her grip.
Darkness settled in and the moon hung low in the nighttime sky. With each passing minute he grew more anxious and fearful. His eyes scanned the horizon expecting at any moment to see her approaching. The closer the moment got the quicker his head darted to and fro. It is time, he thought. Then, as if on cue, there was a thud from underneath the boat. He sat petrified. Another thud caused him to spring to his feet. The small boat almost capsized from the sudden movement. Several more thuds followed. Whatever it was, it was slowly moving along the length of the boat up to the bow. Once there it stopped and the night fell eerily silent.
For several minutes he stood there looking at the bow of the boat, waiting and expecting. But nothing happened. He sat back down and prepared to paddle away when a hand erupted from the sea and grabbed the bow. The other hand quickly followed. White knuckling the handles of the paddles, he sat, motionless. He stared at the hands at the other end of the boat and the same thought kept echoing in his head: there are no fingernails on those hands.
His eyes grew wider and wider as he watched the figure climb into the boat. Its moves were unnaturally jerky. He wanted to scream but couldn't find his voice. He recoiled as the figure stood up in the boat. He knew it was her, knew that his time had come. He had tried to cheat death and he had failed. Everything that he had worked so hard for in his life was now lost. Ultimately, though, he had lost very little... but gained so much.
He couldn't help but to laugh yet again at the ignorance he had shown that night on the boat. So much had he learned since then. So much had been bestowed upon him. It was a night that he would never forget. The details were burned into his psyche. And the ocean... the ocean, he now knew, descended to depths undreamed of. It was shortly after that night that he abandoned the ocean for the desert. Not due to fear though. No, he did not fear the ocean. It would always be his true home. He left it because he no longer needed it. The desert was what he needed now. The desert was a place where he could go to escape. Where she couldn't find him. Not that he feared her either. Not anymore anyway. But he still needed a place where no one, not even she, would disturb him.
