Lull of the Sea

Trigger Warnings: Mention of drowning and almost drowning Blood play Brief scene of non-consensual s*x (not romanticized) Murder Chaprter One They say seven is a lucky number, but I never believed that was true. My mother died when I was seven, as my mother was trying to save me from drowning in the sea. My father and sister always said the sea’s clutches had always called out to me, and that’s why we rarely visited the beaches. We’d only visited the lakes and rivers near our small hometown in upstate New York. That day was different. That was the day I finally got my wish to go to a beach that was on the ocean. That’s when I finally believed that I was cursed. I had begged and pleaded to visit the sea, to see the waves crash into the sandy beaches. How could they say no? After all, we were on vacation. I was being carefree, playing in the foaming water, splashing until I heard a voice so lovely. However, no one else could hear the melodic voice. He sounded beautiful, and the pull to follow and find the man who was singing was strong. I guess that’s when I finally started to believe it. I could vaguely remember how the pull towards the cold ocean made me feel at peace. How the waves lulled me out to them. Like they were singing me a lullaby, just as a mother would to her newborn child. That was the day my mother had saved me, the day the sea had taken her. When my life was thrown upside down and crashed into the cliffs like a storm. So, it had to be true; even though now, I detested bodies of water, I still felt that magnetic pull. That I needed to be near the ocean, even more so after her death, like the sea couldn’t let me go. Or maybe the correct word would be wouldn’t let me go. I guess the sea never did, since I couldn’t convince myself not to move to a small port town in Maine. My small seaside cottage, attached to the lighthouse, the one that I was the keeper for, nestled right in the curve of a small cove, with small cliffs that tore through the earth’s crust. How ironic that I hated that moving body of liquid, but I could still feel a need to move right next to it. The same cove where I had met my husband, Lucas. He was a fisherman, and his life ended short just six years ago. He died at sea during his seventh trip after our picturesque wedding. My mind mulled over all these events while I lay in bed, which now felt oversized and cold. My gaze followed, of its own accord, to the bedroom window, which faced the sea. The water reflected a crescent moon. The beauty of it terrified me to my very bones. “When the moon rises, the beach can get chilly.” I recited the words Lucas had told me multiple times. Lucas had always loved how the beach felt on a chilly night. It reminded him of his childhood home back in Scotland, his house that rested on the cliff side looking out at the choppy sea. He said he would take me there on our anniversary next year because seeing it in person always outdid the pictures on the internet. We would’ve been together for seven years… I exhaled deeply and slowly. My mind raced with the longing thoughts for my husband. The very sea that he loved so much took him from me. Just like it took my mother. The sea, however beautiful it might seem, was just a dark and mysterious abyss. With things that lurked just beneath the surface and would wait for the unexpected person enjoying themselves in the waves before whatever it was that lived below would pull them under. To their watery graves. I heaved my small body out from underneath the covers. I needed to visit the isolated beach that was just outside my back door. I had to see if there really was something that lurked and was lulling me towards it. If I had never married Lucas, would he have died that night on his boat along with the rest of the crew members? Or was it fate, and he still would’ve gone under in those choppy waves? The curse that my Father had always said followed me everywhere- The curse of the sea. I stepped out into the chilly night air and walked to the shore. I shivered. I wished I had grabbed my robe. The moonlight illuminated me as I held myself. I tried to warm up just a little bit. I took slow and careful steps. The moonlight guided me to the edge where the tide sloshed at my bare feet. The hairs on the nape of my neck stood straight up. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, tempting whatever lurked below, but I couldn’t help myself. The pull of the sea was too great… I was still grieving even after years of being a widow. The sound of waves crashed into the rocky cliffs nearby. My eyes squinted as I looked up, marveling at the moon. I could feel the small waves as they rocked back and forth, again another lullaby. My legs shook like they were going to give out, making me almost fall face-first into the water. I fell to my knees, and I caught myself with my hands; the coolness of the sea made goosebumps prickle up my arm. I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted nothing more than to just move on. I knew he wasn’t coming back, so why did my heart still hurt? Why couldn’t I just let his memory be a peaceful one? I scanned the water, as my quiet voice echoed into the night, “Why did you have to take him from me? He was the only thing that brought me joy after Mother died! Now, you wont even let me just let him go!” The tide just kept coming and going, not fazed by my anger. I hung my head as seven tears fell into the dark waters. My silk nightgown was now soaked in salt water. My knees chilled to the bone. My chest heaved; I wanted to scream again. I wanted to curse at the calming waters. Why does it have to be so damned calming, yet so deadly? Why did I crave the feeling of the ocean? “What did I think was going to happen? That he’d just show up? That my heart would ache less? Some mysterious figure would appear and tell me that Lucas is still alive and well, just waiting for me to find him in Scotland? That I would find a man and be ready to move on?” I laughed out loud, and it sounded almost manic. I stood slowly as my body ached from the internal sorrow that festered from within and from the cold seeping into my bones and joints. Something, though, seemed different about the sea tonight; the crescent moon seemed to hang lower, and the waves ceased their repetitive motion towards the shore. I was oblivious to how the small changes of the night would affect me as I walked back inside. Little did I know that soon my life would change forever… I stripped out of my nightgown and finally fell asleep in the bed, the covers pulled up around my nude body like a cocoon. Tonight, I dreamed not of Lucas returning home, but of a man with dark hair and tanned skin. I couldn’t see his face as his body was turned away from me. He started to turn his head towards me, and everything went black.