When The Sea Calls

When the Sea Calls

She was seven when the sea first called.

Running across the beach, sand scorching the soles of her feet, cheeks burning bright in the icy wind, she slowed to a stop at the edge of the shore, each wave drawing the water within inches of her toes. 

Grandmother’s warnings, whispered in stern tones echoing from her earliest memories, kept her from touching the water. 

No matter what you hear, no matter how sweetly the words linger in your ears, never answer when the sea calls.

The foam reached out, a beckoning hand ready to embrace her as a loving daughter. Oh, how wonderful the swelling music was to her ears. How calming, how consoling. 

Come. Come to me, my darling girl. I will keep you safe. You belong to me. 

Lies. All of it lies. She was a daughter of the earth. From the land her family had sprung and thrived, generation on generation. And to the earth each one, in their turn, returned. Becoming nothing but dust. 

These halcyon days kept her mind far from the dust, with summers which lasted a lifetime, Christmases which never came, and a firm belief that she would remain seven for eternity. 

Still, the easy going girl kept herself away from the swelling foam, digging her toes into the warm sands. It wasn’t earth, but it was enough to remind her of her duty. 

With a mighty roar the next wave crashed before her, making her grateful for the foresight of the hurried backwards step. All sense of friendliness was gone as they finally let the pretence drop. The sea was a dangerous enemy. 

Fight all you like, child. You will come to me. They all come to me in the end. 

One step turned into two, then three, breaking into a frantic run, tears streaming down her face, lungs burning as her screams echoed across the beach. 

It took hours for Mother to calm her with gentle shushes and soft fingers caressing salt dried hair. There is nothing, she insisted between shushing, to fear my love. Tall tales from Grandmother, nothing more.

Father waited further back, arms crossed, kept mostly silent by the quick glares of her mother. He made the mistake of suggesting having words with Grandmother, that a line had to be drawn somewhere, and what was she thinking scaring a child like that?

An even more fiery glare almost burned his heart out when he suggested the best antidote for fear was facing it head on. Throwing her in the deep end, as it were. 

They left the beach soon afterwards. Mother gripping her arm tight, dragging her over the roasting sands whilst Father stormed after them, demanding to know what he had said. What had he done wrong?

There was no answer that he could understand. Mother had forgotten the old stories. Perhaps because she never believed them in the first place. Yet fear burrows deep, and something which would not be ignored screamed out its warning. Something long buried with the hopes it would die. 

She was fourteen when next the sea called. 

Standing on the cliffs, watching the waves throb against the rocks below. Often she strolled across these rolling hills, soft grass bowing beneath her unyielding step. The supplication was agreeable, but always there was the sharp reminder that this was a temporary state of affairs. The summers already shorter than she remembered, days creeping by with mundane inevitability. At times she caught her mind drifting towards the dark abyss from which there was no escape, but how easy it was to turn aside before the black void engulfed her thoughts. The wild days of her childhood had passed, but still her youth was abundant, warm blood beating in her heart, steady and strong. 

Walking side by side, chatting and laughing with friends equally warm blooded as herself, she floated over the land as carefree as the breeze. 

But gleeful days are as short lived as summer showers, for suddenly the long forgotten voice whispered in her ear. 

Come. Come to me, my darling girl. I will keep you safe. You belong to me. 

She stopped, memories flooding back quickly and fiercely, dark water rising around her. 

Her friends didn’t notice at first, happily chattering like magpies as they followed their path across the cliffs. Only when they were about to crest the hill did they note the absence of their companion, rooted to the spot with her eyes fixed on the swell which seemed both miles away and yet within the touch of her outstretched hand. 

It endlessly danced beneath her, twisting, turning, inviting her to join the revelries. There was no danger here. Nothing but joy and bliss, and what completion she would feel if only she took the leap, the smallest step, to take her rightful place among the foam. 

They called her name, friends who were annoyed, then confused, then finally tingeing their reprimands with concern as their calls went unheeded. 

She heard none of their words, her ears too full of the promise of the sea. A promise that she will never feel lost again. The sea comes for us all. 

Such sweet words, and oh how they are easier to swallow than honey. 

Pulses through her feet, lightning shooting over skin, making her step away from the cliff edge, bringing her back to the moment, the minute, the second. 

A few shaky giggles as she trotted after the compatriots was enough to assuage their fears, and the day spun on with the usual progression of hours, each one filled with revelations of the utmost importance destined to be forgotten all too soon, faster than winter frost before the spring rains. 

She left the sea behind her. Churning itself into a fury, it screamed out its futile warning.

You cannot escape me! All return to me in the end!

Grandmother would be ashamed if she saw the falter in her step, the temptation to turn back, a willingness to listen, to believe, to take the leap. 

The sea poisons all. Salt withers crops. Blight burrows into the land, and generations starve. You are a child of the earth, and the sea is waiting for its opportunity to seep into your bones. 

Yes, a child of the earth. Born out of generations of lesser children. The beating heart of the land fell in time with her own. She was one with the soil, the trees her brethren, each flower and fungus her brothers and sisters. And as one born from the earth, to the earth she must return. 

The sea is a jealous mistress. Tempestuous and fickle. It will take you without hesitation. Destroy you. Abandon you. Leave you with nothing. 

She nodded, knowing how unwise, how pointless, it was to argue with Grandmother. Even when she became nothing more than a memory.   

Grandmother’s funeral, following shortly after her twenty fourth birthday. A strange age. Too old to garner much sympathy for losing a grandparent, but still feeling too young to live without her. 

Encased in the grief wearied arms of her family, they stood vigil as Grandmother’s earthly remains were lowered into the ground. 

We come from the earth, and to the earth we return.

Words as sharp as ever, accompanied with a stern reminder that she would never be without Grandmother. Some blood runs too deep to ever be forgotten. 

Mother wanted her to attend the wake. A celebration of life she felt unable to contribute to. 

For was it possible to celebrate a relationship as changeable as the weather?

And was she the disappointment she always knew herself to be? 

Certainly the sea was a contentious issue which did nothing to smooth the way, Grandmother insistent that it was simple to resist the irresistible calls. All true children of the earth quelled those urges not long out of childhood. Could she truly consider herself a true child if the temptation remained so strong? 

Attempts were made to repair the fraying relationship, her hope that staying away from the sea, eliminating the root of the discord altogether would fix what was becoming increasingly broken. Hard to do on an island, and the ruse was easy enough to shatter, bringing with it the expected disdain. 

Think you’re being brave, do you? Never mistake running away for anything other than cowardice. 

Climbing high, higher, ever higher, clawing her way to the very top of the island, breathing deep the intoxicating air as she turned in small circles. Only here could she escape the barbed criticisms, the pulsing of the earth blocking out everything, filling her head, rushing through her blood, taking her over completely. 

Sometimes she would consider this bliss. Sometimes, more often than not, she saw it for what it really was. Her life was given to her, but it was not a gift. There is no expectation to return a gift. 

The earth is cold. Barren. I will give you love and ask for nothing in return. 

She stopped, the very air around her stilled as her gaze was drawn once again to the sea. 

Even here it could reach her. Waiting, biding its time, all those years saying nothing, knowing eventually her mind would be open once more. 

The earth could not hold her back from the dock, nor keep her from boarding the ferry, determined to leave behind all that demanded so much from her. 

She told no one that she was leaving for good. Her resolve hanging by a thread, she knew it would not hold up to an insistent argument. If she were ever to escape this prison, a prison in which the bars were nothing more than duty thrust upon her from birth, it had to be done now. 

The boat pushed away from the dock, the salt air whipping her face as she inhaled the all encompassing sweetness. This was not a blight, it was freedom. A true freedom she had not been permitted under Grandmother’s imperious thumb. 

That thumb was gone now, and who she could become was a mystery she was desperate to solve. No flower can bloom in the shade. 

Something hit the side of the boat. A wave large enough to send herself and her sparse fellow passengers stumbling sideways. 

She gripped the rail, slipping on the drenched deck, with no time to regain her footing as another wave set the boat rocking. Salt water stinging her eyes, hair stiff with salt, foam soaking into her jeans, her jumper, unable to see more than a few inches ahead of her as yet a third wave crashed into the hull. 

The grumbling of the other passengers rang in her ears, annoyance transforming into fear with every lurch. Behind her the patter of heavy feet to and fro as the small crew, usually suitable for the short trip off the island, scattered over the deck. This was unprecedented. Weather reports had predicted a clear day with only a light mist in the morning. Yet all around them a tempest was reaching its boiling point, throwing them to the mercy of the sea. 

Please no! She begged with all her might, skidding to her knees as her feet fully went out from under her. I’ve done what you asked, I left it all behind. Let me leave, please!

Clouds gathered overhead, thunder rolling, lightning cracking. Not angry, but unsympathetic to her pleas.  

How can I let you go, my darling girl? You belong to me. 

The malaise of fear, which until now had hung heavy over the passengers, finally broke. The boat veered sideways, lingering on the verge of capsizing, screaming as they clung desperately to the railing, water filling their mouths, seeping into their lungs, silencing each man, woman, and child into impotent spluttering. 

She kept her mouth closed, unwilling to allow the sea to take any part of her. 

Soon. Soon you will all be mine. 

Risking opening her eyes, she saw the glittering emerald of home close, so close, surely within reach if she stretched out her arm. She left it behind, scorning the solid hills beneath her feet, longing to plunge into murky depths which gave her nothing but sweet words. 

How that gift was wasted on you. The earth only takes what it is due, and even that was too much for you. 

The scornful tone was so clear Grandmother could have been at her elbow, all purple cardigan, peppermints, and deep scowls etched into every line. 

Yes, she had made a mistake. But was it surprising, or selfish, to long for a kind word? To be willing to fall into a warm embrace? To be desired and loved, held aloft like a jewel rather than a burden? The sea called and called, no matter how many times she ignored it. There was an appeal to being pursued so ruthlessly. 

The situation upon the boat was growing dire, each successive wave threatening to capsize the pathetic vessel completely, and every single passenger knew there would be no surviving in the roiling soil. Not unless the glimmering isle was as close as it appeared. 

She knew what she had to do long before she did it. Dangerous, reckless, yes, but why should these hapless fools pay the price for her cowardice? For her betrayal? 

Luckily there was too much commotion for anyone to notice what she was doing, and with no restraining arm to hold her back, she clambered up the railing, leaping into the air before diving into the waiting arms of the sea. 

Down, down she sank, icy fingers wrapped around her ankles, tightening at her throat, forcing the air from her lungs in streams of bubbles. All she could do was scream into the isolation surrounding her. The sea did not answer. It had nothing to say. Not now it had what it wanted. 

Heavy arms did nothing to prevent her from breaking the surface, sucking in desperate breaths before the grip on her ankles resumed and she was pulled back under. 

Darkness enveloped her. There was nothing but darkness, there was never anything but darkness. It forced her mouth open, slithered into her throat, she was becoming one with the sea. She was fulfilling the promise made long ago. 

Once more she was thrown to the surface, the gulping breaths searing her throat and lungs. Was the boat close? She could not tell, the far off screams possibly only the ringing of her ears. Vision blurred, with no strength to keep herself afloat, she used the last of her resolve to pull herself over the tops of the waves for one last look at the land who had given her so much. 

Forgive me. Forgive your wayward daughter. 

Exhaustion overtook her, and the isle gleamed its final farewell as she sank back into oblivion. 

Buffeted back and forth, water swirled around her limp form. She prayed for it to end. If she could finally let go she might be allowed the freedom she was denied in life. Even now she was pulled in all directions, the earth making a last desperate attempt to reclaim what it had lost, the sea unwilling to lose its hard won prize. 

Sometimes she managed to break the surface, but soon it became impossible to tell, her entire body on fire in the freezing water. And still the darkness refused to take her. Or perhaps the earth could not bear to let her go. 

Sweet words, all she wanted now were some final sweet words, an offer of feeble comfort in her last moments. The sea remained stubbornly silent. The earth, however…

You cannot run from what you are. Anymore than the hills can crumble into dust. 

Voice so near, Grandmother with her again, now she knew the suffering was over. Whatever fight she had left in her was finally let go, the agony at an end, the darkness lingering at the edges of consciousness taking her completely. 

Misty mornings walking through the heather, sweet and bright and everywhere, feet brushed with dew creeping up her legs, skirt, arms, wind stirring her hair. Nothing could be seen, the mist was too thick, but she felt the earth beneath her, sweeter than the heather, warm as her rushing blood. And the others, those who came before, walking ahead, waiting for her to join them, laying a path to be followed without diversion. 

“The hills will not crumble into dust”

And suddenly there was the same purple cardigan, the same peppermints, the same deep scowl. She tried to walk forward, to reach out, to take her hand, but Grandmother shook her head, the scowl giving way to a more inscrutable expression. 

“Not today”

The mist swept in, leaving her alone with no more voices in the darkness, and as the sun peeked through the clouds she dropped to her knees, digging her fingers into the sweet warm earth. 

The first thing she was fully aware of was the sun kissing her cheek, a thin sheen of sweat washing away the corrupting salt of the sea. Salt which poisons the earth for generations. 

She was thankful for the solitude of the lonely spot upon which she had washed up, and it was a good hour before she was able to pull herself into a sitting position. Every bone felt close to snapping, her lungs aflame with each wracking cough, shallow breathing gradually giving way to indulgent gulps which lifted the mist from her vision. 

No waves crashed against the rocks now, despite her feet dangling within easy reach of the water. Their battle was over, at least for the moment. Sweet words would come again. Yet there was nothing it could say to tempt her now. Its love was hollow, empty, cold. It could not compare to the sweetness of the earth. 

Hours later found her stumbling up the highest hill, the true centre of the isle. Falling to her knees, laying against the soft grass, heather surrounding her, breathing in the warming air of home, she felt her strength returning. This was who she was. This was where she belonged. 

The hills call us home.