Sometimes the depths hold more than mystery
I have always felt that the ocean held mystery. … dark and foreboding. I inherited a small cottage on the Atlantic shore from my uncle and would spend weekends there to get away from the daily grind. Although I would enter the waves and laugh with friends, I always felt myself hold back a little, unsure of the dark waters around me. It was not the sea life that I feared. It was the realization that the ocean was a vast graveyard of lost souls … countless shipwrecks through the centuries, plane crashes and the drowning of nameless others.
One night I felt restless and couldn’t sleep. I decided to walk the beach in the moonlight, gazing out to the vastness of the ocean. As I stood quietly looking at the moon, I was startled by movement caught in the corner of my eye. I gasped as I saw a dark figure slowly emerge from the waves, undeterred by the crashing of the surf. In shock, I watched as more figures rose from the waves heading toward me.
I fled, without looking back. I ran as fast as I could through the soft sands to my cottage. Slamming and locking the door behind me, I shut myself in the bathroom where I stayed until morning light.
I sold my cottage not long after that, not telling anyone of my experience. Really, who would believe me? I soon purchased a little cabin in the woods that continued to feed my soul the quietude that I hungered for after a long week of work. The early summer evening was beautiful as I sat at the edge of the pier overlooking the lake. I languidly sipped my wine but suddenly stopped when I remembered that lake waters are dark and deep and that they too, hold secrets …