The Succulent Sea

It’s a calm place; where sea sprays whisper across windswept dunes of Marram grass. Salt filters the air and peppers across dampened skin leaving a trail of harsh granules that cling at every crevice. Erosion has yet to seep into the creeping underground veins of Mangrove stems that lacerate the far side of the ever-widening stretch of seashore. 1

The beaming rays of sunlight glare aggressively against glassy water and reflective sand, bouncing from choppy swell to rippling whitecap. A man, poised with his hand shielding his eyes, stands amid motionless earth, shirtless and water worn, his shorts tore off just under the knees. He was focused on one wave in particular. A wave motionless in the rocking sea, relucent like some mirror held afloat. He possesses no apprehension as the wave, once beaming and unmoving, begins to drift faster than the average surge and in a steady direction; not to be deterred by the bumping of waves against each other. 2

She swayed as no other on Earth; wafting across the rising water. Skin almost translucent, yet sparkling; pearly even. She appeared to be standing, yet it seemed impossible in the depth of water as she was still quite a few yards from shore, and from the captivated man. Her hair was long, golden, and plastered alongside her body and arms, the ends floating around her where the tips reached the water, almost as if they were a gown dressing her. Her skin was smooth, her rounded breasts stood proudly away from her body, echoing the sand dunes so admired by man, and filtered with strands of golden hair. Her waist dipped in to curve out hips as water lapped and swallowed the rest of her, leaving the man to his plaguing thoughts that such perfection was carried throughout the rest of her body.3

He had no rational thoughts, no vexing questions that would unravel his reverie. He took one step and then yet another until he stood waist deep in the warm, murky depths. A song without words surrounded him, the most breathtaking pitch, a sound without an echo yet it seemed to be bouncing from the watery depths and shaking him to his very soul, demanding a response. 4

Water swirled about him as she came close, a rounded, seashell comb in one hand, a small Victorian mirror in the other. Her movements were intoxicating, her face fresh from the sea, bathed in rippling reflections and a mischievous glow that seemed all her own and that song that seemed to flow effortlessly from her luscious mouth, breathier and sultrier now that she was closer. 5

The man, enchanted, could no more stop the forces of his raging body than he could stop the course of the tides. And he, so enamored, reached for her delicate hand as she outstretched it to him and clasping her wet fingers allowed her to pull him with her, drifting across the waves, never noticing the direction of her strokes. He watched as the little round mirror slid from her grasp and seemed to float underwater, a pattern of a gentle swaying of back and forth. And still her song continued.6

In his mindless state, he had no resistance as she first dipped once and then twice under the water pulling him with her before resurging to the surface. Her gay laughter echoed around him, a shimmer of sparkling and light that he had never before experienced. And then she went under again, slipping from his grasp, leaving him searching for her on the surface. 7

Slightly panicked, he dove under the surface and was rewarded with her smiling face, her eyes blinking at him, beaming with devotion. She reached out her hand again and gladly he took it. 8

She swam backwards, facing him as she tugged him along. Her beautiful smile never faltering. It was here that she wanted him. Here that she needed him. The most unique of collections and prized possessions nestled deep in her lagoon hideaway. The thought of such a reward for this possession was intoxicating. Her movements, while not hurried seemed to speed at a steady pace. 9

It was here, in the oceans darkest secret, here in the pressurized water that the man, so enamored, slowly, gaspingly realized his bottomless blue surroundings. Here that he focused on the glittering pearl of a fishtail that was where her naked legs should have been. Here that hysteria had him ripping himself from her grasp and surging for the surface. Here, that while the white ocean surface appeared to be in reach, the last bubbles of his life escaped him. And here that she, that beautiful urchin, gently reclaimed her grasp tugging his lifeless form to the ocean floor, scavenging relics that he possessed. Later she would return for her mirror, the marker in an ever-changing ocean floor.10