My net is quite worn now, and small. No good for pulling in large quantities of fish. But for two weeks on end, I'll heave in as much as I can. No one ever helps me. Too afraid of the fickle mistress. They call me the Sea-Tamer for being crazy enough to venture into what they think are the roiling depths. When I saw the sea that night I spoke to her for the first time. As if anyone could ever tame you. I spoke those words slowly and deliberately, hoping that sweet offering to her will not go unnoticed amidst the roar of her motion.
I told you I was never one for counting. Only heard of those numbers I mentioned before from the others. Could never count past twelve. Never needed to. The villagefolk are at the very least appreciative for my so-called "daring deeds". They offer me the basic comforts of living for those services. I'm grateful, but their approval has never been what I sought. But she is implacable, rolling and coming and going with no heed to the attentions I pay her. I let a tear drop fall from my eyes, allowing it to travel in a slow meandering path from the smooth rock I stand upon to the sea beyond.
Taptaptap. The steady taps of a stick guiding the infirm along the stony path from the village to the sea. Ah. One comes tonight. I'm surprised. Thought he would have a few years left before they called him.
"My time has come," he states flatly.
"Aye, but not gone," I return.
"So... ah... what do I do?" He sounds nervous.
"You just step foreward. She will come." I feel a shiver of anticipation. The sight of her still leaves my breathless.
The waves shift listlessly. A dark void detaches from the edges of my vision and makes its way towards the shore.
"Is... that it?"
"It?" I bristle at the words. The improper words. "It is a she. She Who Lurks In The Deep. Now go on quickly. I'm sure she's been waiting ages to meet you."
By @tommievelez
