Madison Monette
Waves crash down on the wall of rocks guarding Maine’s most eastern shore. The Atlantic’s greedy tongue laps at the remaining parcels of beach that meet its frigid waters. The towns folk avoid the monotonous pleas of the sea. The birds and seals refuse to be a part of its taking. What lurks beneath the pounding waves, like never-ending fists, is waiting. Seldom seen by those fortunate enough to relay the tale, it waits for an unsuspecting bird, or seal, or little girl to fall mesmerized by its symphony. Lore of sailors plunging into the chilling darkness, hypnotized by a siren’s song, flood the local newspaper and marketplace talk. The facade of algae covered boulders protects beach goers from sharks and jellyfish, but the unrelenting waves grow to make their presence known. The sea’s jealous waves erase footprints left in the sand by those able to stroll the endless beach. The children are warned to stay away from the sea, especially on nights where the full moon demands the tide. Romantics often walk along the moonlit beach on clear nights where spray glistens as it rains down the western edge of the jagged rocks. Adventurous sightseers climb the wall to glimpse the moon shining off the cataclysmic waves before they meet their demise.
There is no blood, only a shriek soon diluted by a flood not even the wall can keep out. After every encounter the beach becomes more vacant. Now, as the little girl looks out her bedroom window, only a ghost town lies before her. The feeling of the sand, the cool water contrasted against a hot summer’s day, it begs her to join in the delight.
The tide pulls her in. Her flashlight, offering little use in the full moon’s glow, bounces off the dripping rocks. She walks towards the end of the breakwall, where the calming lullaby reaches sand. The sweet serenade grows louder. There is no turning back.
A sudden realization, her feet are submerged by a chilling blanket, flowing towards her then away, never remaining still.
A webbed hand seizes her ankle. It pulls her to the icy depths before she can utter more than a yelp.
Emerging from the crashing waves is a little girl, dripping saltwater and seaweed. She walks along the weakening rocks, singing with a stranger’s voice, before returning back into the sea. The little girl’s body crashes into the wall with repetitive urgency. A glistening tail dives into the black waves, waiting to walk once more.