Standing with my feet planted firmly in the sand, I watched with emerald eyes, the ebb and flow of the sea before me. The salty wind ripping wildly at my tattered, pink and white floral sundress. Unruly chestnut hair tossing violently – whipping and sticking to my tear soaked cheeks.
I feel nothing.
Summers night’s midnight hues hide everything from sight, accept for what moon is allowed to touch – always did look so damn beautiful bouncing and shimmering off the water. Setting this stage each night, a tragic symphony of calming and structured balance.
Hearts beat. That was something I can’t completely recall having. It had a terribly irregular rhythm that murmured inside my chest until death did me part.
Death. I do remember dying. It felt as though I watched myself unravel from the inside, with glass eyes for an eternity like a cold store mannequin – and that eternity was captive within just one brief minute.
I always thought my proverbial “hell” would be something far worse than this infinitely looped severance. Perhaps I let myself get so lost in my life that I never truly was alive, that now I’m perpetually stuck on repeat. I’ve created a faint husk of a former woman, only to be seen under the stars. What’s worse than being cursed of your own accord?
Someone is coming – they always do. Same time, same day, same heart beat. All of our beats match and are in sync. I can hear it’s ‘budump’ sound coming for miles.
I’m always here, waiting to pick up the pieces. Always right in front of you.
This woman was running like someone trying to escape a hell hound, a woman in debt to the crossroads. Over the dark leafy hillside to the beach, the moment her feet hit the warm sand she fell hard to her knees. Crying and sobbing and now covered in dirt.
She can’t see me yet, but she will.
She sat there for some time, talking to herself, tearfully cursing this and that. Such petty things won’t matter soon.
Bleed out that hurt. Strengthen our bond.
She stood up and wiped the tears from her face – expression forlorn and distant – they are always crying, always wearing a sundress and always with the wildest brown hair and ominous green eyes.
I observe her quietly as she walks past my ghastly essence and wades into the water. A part of me is whisked toward the water with her, clinging to her dress like octopus tendrils – I’m seeping into her lungs. Deeper and deeper still, her hands patting the tops of the small waves like trying to smooth out a black silk bed sheet. She’s humming a song from her childhood. Our childhood.
I remember the feeling of the cool water, it’s salty smell, the gentle swish and swash of waves all around me and the wet sand mushed beneath my toes. I remember looking out over this vast and expansive sky mirror and reliving my last vocalized words. They wouldn’t have understood us. It is for the best.
I am before her now – it’s almost time.
I hold her face in my hands – she’s staring right at me with tear filled eyes and doesn’t even know. She is beautiful – my tragic marionette.
I hold her hands as she takes a deep breath, lowering herself under the water completely.
I’m right here, I’m so sorry.
We’re under water now – her heart beat quickens, her hair becoming one with that ebb and flow of the tides, creating new green glass eyes. We feel the natural heart beat of the world.
She takes in a deep breath of water, she can’t stand up, I’ve brought her out past the point of return. Her eyes fly open like a porcelain doll falling off a high shelf – My tragic princess signing her death note. She can see me now – pale, transparent a beckoning siren, psychopomp of the afterlife. If I could rewrite this fate I would, I’ve always had a flare for holding just enough torment within me to be mysteriously beautiful.
The moment that the heart ceases to beat, you are reborn, I pulled her from her body.
She can see all of us now. All the women I’ve seen into the in between, all buried by black water of burden. Ghosts of lost moments, entities of cursed whispers, non-corporeal beings of jealous and loveless lives. All cloaked beneath this beautiful balance – we wind and scream and writhe together, just beneath the surface and above the deep.
We have each other now – we are in league, we all believed we were the doctors of low self esteem. One and many, writing nightmares by the sea.