Okay y'all, I saw Summerland last Tuesday, and I just HAD to write a story about it. Now the characters may seem a bit OOC ( that means out of character for any of you who may not know) and for that I apologize. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
The Sea Calls My Name
Chapter One
The waves crashed upon the shore with a sharp fierceness. Gulls swooped low upon the waves, catching the fish that dared to travel with the wave. The sun warmed the sand, making it hot beneath the feet of the sunbathers and surfers. It shone on the water like thousands of tiny diamonds catching the eye of every beach goer. People relaxed on the beach in groups, sunbathing and talking together. Their perfectly tanned skin glistened in the sun.
Braden wandered across the soft sand, his mind on nothing and his eyes on the sunbathing women in bikinis. He smirked as he watched them, some of them looking him over as well. Unknowingly, Braden found himself at Spanish Cove. The Cove was a place where many guys took their dates so they could score. It was a place of many regrets and haunting memories. Of course, some had good memories there, but it was rare.
Glancing about, Braden found he was not alone. A lone figure stood at the water's edge, her long, curly auburn hair blew in the salty sea breeze, sweeping across pale slim shoulders. A calf-length khaki skirt showed off her shapely legs. Braden couldn't tear his eyes from this alluring figure. True he didn't know what she looked like, but he could just tell that she was beautiful. As if she could sense his gaze, the girl turned around. Her doe shaped eyes were a deep ivy green and so hollow Braden's breath caught in his throat. There were circles beneath her eyes, and her pale skin made them seem darker than they really were. Her lips were set in a grim line and her brow was furrowed. Braden' eyes caught hers and he felt as if she was looking deep within his soul. Her eyes widened slightly and she looked about to flee. Braden didn't want her to leave, he wanted her to stay and talk to him.
"Hey," he said walking towards her before she could run, "I'm Braden" it was dumb, but it was something to say. The girl simply looked at him, and then at his hand, which was extended towards her.
"Marie," she said after a long pause. She clasped his hand in her own in a soft yet steardy grip. Braden noticed that her fingernails were painted the same shade of her pale blue sweater.
"Are you new here?" he asked.
"No," she said shaking her head, "I just don't get out much." She stared at her flip-flops, refusing to meet Braden's eyes.
"So," He said, uncertain of what to say, "How old are you?"
"Sixteen. What about you?" She asked, running her feet through the sand.
"Sixteen." A silence fell over them, but it didn't matter. Braden could sense there was no need to talk, that they didn't need words to speak to each other.
"I should go," Marie said after awhile, "my folks will be wondering where I am." She started to walk past him, but Braden couldn't let her got that easily.
"Wait," he said grabbing her arm quickly. Marie looked up at him startled. "Can I see you again?" he asked. She looked around as if she was searching for somebody.
"O...okay." She said after awhile. Braden grinned.
"Cool," he said," Um..." he looked at his watch, "Tomorrow, same time?" he asked.
"I don't know." she said with a shake of her head, "but I can try." Braden smiled and let her go, now certain that he would see her again.
Why? Why did she have to run into him? Why did she have to go to Spanish Cove that day? The questions ran through Marie's mind as she hurried down the beach, the sand flying out from beneath her running feet. She was already late getting home; hopefully he wouldn't notice that she was late. But he always knew.
The image of Braden standing there on the beach, his sandy blonde hair blowing across his forehead and his beautiful blue eyes looking into hers was permanent in her mind. He wasn't the only person that she had ever encountered on her daily excursions on the beach. He was, however, the only one that had ever ventured to talk to her.
Marie opened the door to her beach house silently, praying that he would not hear the small squeak that it emitted. She slunk through the door and winced as a floorboard creaked beneath her foot. She paused, listening for any sign that he had heard her. When everything remained quiet, Marie ventured further into the living room, heading for the stairs.
"Where the hell have you been?" the voice came from nowhere. Marie whirled around and her heart jumped into her throat as she saw him standing in the kitchen staring at her with his dull green eyes.
"I...I was just..." she couldn't speak, the fear clogged her throat and she couldn't breathe.
"You were just what?" he asked, advancing on her menacingly.
"I was just down at the beach like everyday." She stammered, trying to put distance between the two of them.
"You're late." He said sharply, "What have I told you about being late?" his scream frightened Marie even more and she flinched as if he had struck her.
"I'm sorry," she cried, tears streaming down her face, "I didn't know."
"You didn't KNOW?" he laughed and it sounded strained and forced, "Of course you didn't know, you're so stupid you wouldn't know the time if you were looking at a watch." Marie was used to the verbal abuse and didn't mind it as much since she knew that the beatings wouldn't come afterwards.
Marie's father died when she was ten years old, leaving her distraught mother on her own to raise a young daughter and struggle to make ends meet. Her family had never been well off, and her mother had to work herself to death just to earn enough to pay the bills and buy food. Finally, she had remarried. Marie's stepfather hadn't been too bad to begin with. He was a nice guy and loved her mother, or so she had thought.
One day, soon after her thirteenth birthday, Marie had come home from school to find her mother lying on the floor crying. Large bruises covered her face and a cut ran down the left cheek of her once pretty face. Marie's stepfather stood over her, blood on his knuckles and a mean, drunken look on his face. The beatings and verbal abuse came regularly after that. Marie was locked away in her bedroom and made to "take care" of her stepfather when her mother couldn't. Many nights she lay in bed, crying herself to sleep. She went to school like a regular kid, but she was never able to wear short skirts or shirts with short sleeves.
It was a miserable life; one that she wished would end soon. Many times Marie had tried to claim her life, but every time she came close to swallowing the pills, something stopped her. It was as if a hand held hers, stopping her from lifting the pills to her mouth. One time she had tried shooting herself, but again, the hand stayed hers, stopping her from pulling the trigger. Her mother needed her; Marie knew that, so she couldn't die, she couldn't allow her mother to be by herself with this monster. So she stopped the suicidal thoughts and tried to live one day at a time, hoping for the day when her mother would regain her strength, and backbone, and divorce the man.
"Where's mama?" she asked, trying to keep his mind occupied so that he would forget to hit her, or take her upstairs.
"Stupid woman is sick, again." He sneered, "I swear, I don't know why I married her. The dumb bitch." Anger swelled within Marie's breast and she wanted nothing more than to wipe the sneer from his face. She turned away from him before she did something she would regret and headed for the stairs.
"Where are you going?" he asked, coming up behind her and grabbing her arm in a vice like grip. His grip was so different from Braden's. While Braden's had been soft and gentle, her stepfather's was harsh and numbing.
"Up...upstairs." She said, refusing to meet his eye less he see it as an act of defiance.
"Excellent idea," he leered at her, staring at her chest and licking his lips, "let's go upstairs." Marie stifled a cry as he dragged her up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Well, I hope you all liked the chapter and will review. I'm not sure how often I'll update, but I will try to do it often.
The Sea Calls My Name
Chapter One
The waves crashed upon the shore with a sharp fierceness. Gulls swooped low upon the waves, catching the fish that dared to travel with the wave. The sun warmed the sand, making it hot beneath the feet of the sunbathers and surfers. It shone on the water like thousands of tiny diamonds catching the eye of every beach goer. People relaxed on the beach in groups, sunbathing and talking together. Their perfectly tanned skin glistened in the sun.
Braden wandered across the soft sand, his mind on nothing and his eyes on the sunbathing women in bikinis. He smirked as he watched them, some of them looking him over as well. Unknowingly, Braden found himself at Spanish Cove. The Cove was a place where many guys took their dates so they could score. It was a place of many regrets and haunting memories. Of course, some had good memories there, but it was rare.
Glancing about, Braden found he was not alone. A lone figure stood at the water's edge, her long, curly auburn hair blew in the salty sea breeze, sweeping across pale slim shoulders. A calf-length khaki skirt showed off her shapely legs. Braden couldn't tear his eyes from this alluring figure. True he didn't know what she looked like, but he could just tell that she was beautiful. As if she could sense his gaze, the girl turned around. Her doe shaped eyes were a deep ivy green and so hollow Braden's breath caught in his throat. There were circles beneath her eyes, and her pale skin made them seem darker than they really were. Her lips were set in a grim line and her brow was furrowed. Braden' eyes caught hers and he felt as if she was looking deep within his soul. Her eyes widened slightly and she looked about to flee. Braden didn't want her to leave, he wanted her to stay and talk to him.
"Hey," he said walking towards her before she could run, "I'm Braden" it was dumb, but it was something to say. The girl simply looked at him, and then at his hand, which was extended towards her.
"Marie," she said after a long pause. She clasped his hand in her own in a soft yet steardy grip. Braden noticed that her fingernails were painted the same shade of her pale blue sweater.
"Are you new here?" he asked.
"No," she said shaking her head, "I just don't get out much." She stared at her flip-flops, refusing to meet Braden's eyes.
"So," He said, uncertain of what to say, "How old are you?"
"Sixteen. What about you?" She asked, running her feet through the sand.
"Sixteen." A silence fell over them, but it didn't matter. Braden could sense there was no need to talk, that they didn't need words to speak to each other.
"I should go," Marie said after awhile, "my folks will be wondering where I am." She started to walk past him, but Braden couldn't let her got that easily.
"Wait," he said grabbing her arm quickly. Marie looked up at him startled. "Can I see you again?" he asked. She looked around as if she was searching for somebody.
"O...okay." She said after awhile. Braden grinned.
"Cool," he said," Um..." he looked at his watch, "Tomorrow, same time?" he asked.
"I don't know." she said with a shake of her head, "but I can try." Braden smiled and let her go, now certain that he would see her again.
Why? Why did she have to run into him? Why did she have to go to Spanish Cove that day? The questions ran through Marie's mind as she hurried down the beach, the sand flying out from beneath her running feet. She was already late getting home; hopefully he wouldn't notice that she was late. But he always knew.
The image of Braden standing there on the beach, his sandy blonde hair blowing across his forehead and his beautiful blue eyes looking into hers was permanent in her mind. He wasn't the only person that she had ever encountered on her daily excursions on the beach. He was, however, the only one that had ever ventured to talk to her.
Marie opened the door to her beach house silently, praying that he would not hear the small squeak that it emitted. She slunk through the door and winced as a floorboard creaked beneath her foot. She paused, listening for any sign that he had heard her. When everything remained quiet, Marie ventured further into the living room, heading for the stairs.
"Where the hell have you been?" the voice came from nowhere. Marie whirled around and her heart jumped into her throat as she saw him standing in the kitchen staring at her with his dull green eyes.
"I...I was just..." she couldn't speak, the fear clogged her throat and she couldn't breathe.
"You were just what?" he asked, advancing on her menacingly.
"I was just down at the beach like everyday." She stammered, trying to put distance between the two of them.
"You're late." He said sharply, "What have I told you about being late?" his scream frightened Marie even more and she flinched as if he had struck her.
"I'm sorry," she cried, tears streaming down her face, "I didn't know."
"You didn't KNOW?" he laughed and it sounded strained and forced, "Of course you didn't know, you're so stupid you wouldn't know the time if you were looking at a watch." Marie was used to the verbal abuse and didn't mind it as much since she knew that the beatings wouldn't come afterwards.
Marie's father died when she was ten years old, leaving her distraught mother on her own to raise a young daughter and struggle to make ends meet. Her family had never been well off, and her mother had to work herself to death just to earn enough to pay the bills and buy food. Finally, she had remarried. Marie's stepfather hadn't been too bad to begin with. He was a nice guy and loved her mother, or so she had thought.
One day, soon after her thirteenth birthday, Marie had come home from school to find her mother lying on the floor crying. Large bruises covered her face and a cut ran down the left cheek of her once pretty face. Marie's stepfather stood over her, blood on his knuckles and a mean, drunken look on his face. The beatings and verbal abuse came regularly after that. Marie was locked away in her bedroom and made to "take care" of her stepfather when her mother couldn't. Many nights she lay in bed, crying herself to sleep. She went to school like a regular kid, but she was never able to wear short skirts or shirts with short sleeves.
It was a miserable life; one that she wished would end soon. Many times Marie had tried to claim her life, but every time she came close to swallowing the pills, something stopped her. It was as if a hand held hers, stopping her from lifting the pills to her mouth. One time she had tried shooting herself, but again, the hand stayed hers, stopping her from pulling the trigger. Her mother needed her; Marie knew that, so she couldn't die, she couldn't allow her mother to be by herself with this monster. So she stopped the suicidal thoughts and tried to live one day at a time, hoping for the day when her mother would regain her strength, and backbone, and divorce the man.
"Where's mama?" she asked, trying to keep his mind occupied so that he would forget to hit her, or take her upstairs.
"Stupid woman is sick, again." He sneered, "I swear, I don't know why I married her. The dumb bitch." Anger swelled within Marie's breast and she wanted nothing more than to wipe the sneer from his face. She turned away from him before she did something she would regret and headed for the stairs.
"Where are you going?" he asked, coming up behind her and grabbing her arm in a vice like grip. His grip was so different from Braden's. While Braden's had been soft and gentle, her stepfather's was harsh and numbing.
"Up...upstairs." She said, refusing to meet his eye less he see it as an act of defiance.
"Excellent idea," he leered at her, staring at her chest and licking his lips, "let's go upstairs." Marie stifled a cry as he dragged her up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Well, I hope you all liked the chapter and will review. I'm not sure how often I'll update, but I will try to do it often.
