More Fractured Tales stories!
Gray-white cracks radiated out from the pockets of the long, black vinyl coat that wrapped around a tall, slender body.
The high collar was pulled up, hiding all but the top of the head, where short, platinum-blonde curls were blowing in the wind.
Hands were pushed deep into the pockets while the tail of the coat flapped freely… periodically giving a brief glimpse of long slim legs, encased in faded, well-worn jeans.
The feet, clad in leather boots with worn heels, were planted firmly on a flat-topped boulder.
From behind, an observer could not tell if the solitary figure on the rocky shoreline was male or female.
Whoever it was just stood there… without the slightest movement to indicate that it was a living, breathing person… and not a statue.
The feet were slightly apart, as if braced for balance against the rising easterly wind… ‘a dirty weather wind’… as many old-timers called it.
Observing the figure from behind might cause one to wonder why someone – anyone – would stand in the open… apparently just staring at the ocean… in the face of a quickly approaching storm.
Perhaps one might even wonder if the person was contemplating suicide.
However… there are always at least two sides to every story… and things are not always what they seem to be.
Inside the long coat beats the heart and soul of a strong, determined young woman who comes here often… and just as often, she wonders why.
Yet, on this day she is heavily burdened by sorrow… pain… and an indescribable sense of loss.
More than that – she is angry… angry at the sea… and how it claims so many lives so easily… with total disregard for age or anything else… often not even giving up the bodies for burial and closure.
She had been through it many times… grandfather… father… two uncles… twin brother… so much pain and agony.
Even her mother wanted to be cremated and have her ashes scattered at sea… thinking it would bring her closer in death to her husband… her youngest son… and only brother.
Therefore, she felt that she was justified in her anger… and her hatred of the cold, dark water.
Her brother had been eighteen, just out of high school… preparing for a life on the sea… despite its hardships and treachery.
He’d spent the previous two summers at sea… and had been accepted for training in the coming winter for his first Marine Ticket.
That summer would have given him sufficient funds to cover the entire cost of his time in school.
He had been so excited when he sailed for the first trip of the summer… the trip that had turned out to be his last.
Still… she was not here to offer her own life to the dark depths… at least, she didn’t think so.
It was the anniversary of the loss of her brother and she was… like every other year since it happened… just waiting.
She didn’t know what she was waiting for.. she did not expect to hear him calling to her… or to see him emerge from the sea… walking towards her.
She told herself she did not believe that spirits could return… to communicate with the loved ones they’d left behind… it just wasn’t possible.
There was no scientific basis or proof for such things… yet literally billions of people in many parts of the world strongly believed in it.
But… there was also no actual proof against it either.
She knew there was a strong – almost telepathic – link between twins… but she did not think it could last beyond death.
This year marked the 10th anniversary of the loss of her brother… and she felt it just as deeply as she had the first time.
His loss had affected her more deeply than any other… perhaps because they were twins… perhaps not… she didn’t know.
But, she did feel that it was time to do something about this melancholy… this deep sorrow that drew her to the sea on every anniversary.
Breathing deeply of the salty air, she began to walk slowly towards the edge… stopping when the waves washed over the toes of her boots.
Should she continue walking… or should she turn and walk away… never to return to this spot again… it was all about decisions…
