The Allure of the Sea

Beth strolled through the knee-high grass that brushed past her like hungry clawing hands. Each swish of wet dew against her pretty, pale blue frock was a gentle, soothing whisper, a whine, a faint whistle that rang in her ear. The calm, gentle breeze blew in her pale face whilst dragging her wonderfully wavy, waterfall of coffee hair along with it, along on its journey that was endless. Her deep, dark marble eyes were glued to the cliff in which she approached. Relishing in the fresh free air and the cool evening breeze, the girl quickened her pace, almost a jog, like violence and rage had attacked her mind. An eerie silence deafened her desperate mumbling under her breath, which seemed uncontrollable compared to her rushed, hurried panicky pace.
         Drowning the icy blue frozen sky was an ocean of marigolds, their petals floating upon the surface, which stained the frozen sky a vibrant orange. Pink petals sailed through with white swans closely following behind. The girl looked up, her breathing was deep and rushed. She watched the show that performed above her, like a play with no error. Then, she saw she had arrived at the cliff edge, the golden beach so far down below her; the waves were roaring and crashing against the plasticine cliffs. The hungry hands of the sea stretched and grabbed large chunks of the cliff and ripped it away, dragging it down underneath its surface. She watched, her eyes staring, glaring, and tearing at the darkening sky.
         By dusk the girl was no more than a shadow, a dark figure upon the cliff that stood like a boulder waiting to roll off the cliff and fall to its death. 
         She had never stayed here this long, not in her memory she hadn’t. Never before had she heard the wailing swaying of the rocking fishing boats. She had no memory of the distant cries of the wailing seagulls that ruled the sea-salty air; or the sound of small sailing boats knocking together, or the echoing of the rope being pulled tight as fishermen reeled their boats in, which were weighed down by their catches. Yet the smell of the sea salt and fresh fish made Beth feel a memory return to her, like she had been here once but not in the same body, maybe not even in the same soul.
         Beth watched the seagulls swarm the fish-filled boats whilst mothers and children came to the harbour to welcome their husbands back home. She had no husband, nor any siblings, or any parents that ever knew of or cared about her existence. She was alone, though she had neighbours who rarely said hello but they would often drop by her stone cottage and offer her fresh fish and newly picked, homegrown vegetables.
         The cobbled streets produced a heavy ache on the soles of her feet, as she hobbled down the narrow alleyway, which led to her stone cottage on the quayside. By now she barely had enough energy to take another step, let alone another hundred to reach her door. There was no light, nor was there any moonlight that could reach down that particular alleyway; it was shadowed by rooftops and buildings.
         Just as the buildings unfolded out of her way, she saw a sight of great enlightenment.
          The harbour was lit by shimmering metallic silver.  Shadows of each cottage and garden wall loomed upon the wrinkled water. Seagulls swarmed the fishy stench from the boats. In this beautiful midnight portrait, for a whole twelve miles that stretched from the harbour walls to the distant horizon, the shimmering moonlight left a twinkling silver path along the surface that glittered like a shower of diamonds. Each one winked at Beth in the twilight.
         Something this spectacular dazzled Beth, so much so she was almost tempted to follow. Creeping towards the water’s edge, she stepped into the bitter sea, getting deeper and colder. The path swallowed her. Her lips turned sapphire blue, the delicate skin upon her beautiful face faded to pure white as if bloodless. .
         By midnight she was barely living but floating like a buoy bobbing in the water. She came to the shore and lay still, silent, stiff and lifeless. In the darkness she slept upon the golden sand with her hair dyed a golden shade by the tiny grains of sand. There she remained, waiting to be found.