Salt of the Sea
Flash Fiction (583 words)
The ocean swelled around me. I gripped the edges of my bodyboard and leaned forward, riding the swell of the waves. My board coasted smoothly to the beach. As I stood up, my feet descended beneath the sand, creating tiny rivers as the tide receded between my toes. Dusk painted the sky in purple and gold gradients. It was my third time in the water as a bodyboarder, and I was finally getting the hang of things. The ocean water pulled on my ankles, beckoning me back into the water for one last wave before nightfall.
The lower tide meant that I had to paddle nearly twice as far out, but my patience was rewarded when the ocean bloated beneath me. I rose quickly with the water, but this time was different: I could not see over the crest of the wave wall. My board slid along the backside of the waves, down and further away from the coast. The waves rushed towards the beach without me. I felt like a fish caught on an invisible hook, being pulled helplessly by the riptide.
Fueled by adrenaline, I exerted all of my energy to overpower the current, kicking vigorously in parallel to the direction of the flow, but it was no use. The torrent was too intense, and I was headed straight towards the sharp rocks that lined the edge of the cove. At high tide, I could try to land safely and wait, but at low tide, the exposed, jagged peaks would break my body. I clung to my board, closed my eyes, and braced for the impact.
My eyes adjusted to let in the last rays of the recently set sun while I drifted back into consciousness. A bright spotlight shifted into and out of my peripheral view. It was a rescue boat, and they were headed straight for me. Sitting upright, I was surprised to have felt no pain, but relieved to learn I was able to move. I jumped up, waving my arms above my head.
“I’m here! Help me! Over here!” I shouted.
The boat approached the rocks to my right, and the spotlight scanned the shadows. I expected the light to stop as it passed over me, but instead, it kept traveling along the edge of the cove. As the light shifted to my left, my neon yellow bodyboard appeared, mangled and wedged between two sharp boulders. The boat stopped, and they retrieved the remnants of my board. The spotlight operator gave a solemn nod, and the driver turned the boat around to search again.
“Can’t you see me?! I’m here!” I pleaded. The rescuers had completely missed me, again. My voice tightened with desperation as I screamed from deep inside my belly, waving my arms and jumping in place.
The spotlight approached a second time, but when the light reached me, my eyes were not sensitive to the light. My body remained unlit. I lowered my arms and examined my hands. No shadow. I clapped, but heard no sound. I was there, but I was not.
Over and over again, the light would come and go. They searched for hours, but they could not see or hear me. Eventually, the light turned off, and the boat turned back towards the shore. Sorrow expanded in me until I wept, and with my tears came a terrible knowing: the salt of the sea comes from the unending tears of the dead. Ever since the riptide, I have contributed mine.