The rolling grey water rolled forwards and swept across the sand, over Christopher’s feet and sank into his shoes. He shuddered. The icy wind cut into Christopher’s skin and blew his hood up against the back of his head. It hadn’t started raining yet, but he reckoned that it was only a matter of time before it did. Christopher didn’t mind. He actually quite liked the dull weather that had settled over the seaside town where he lived.
Another wave crashed into the beach, foam sizzling as it retreated. Christopher watched, his mind numb. He had been coming to the beach a lot lately, ever since that day.
He knew his mother wanted him around, but staying in that house just made him feel strange. There was nothing to do there now that Emma was gone. All of the toys in his room seemed so childish all a sudden, and there was no one to talk to. He tried talking to his parents (if he could find an interlude between their constant arguments), but they just wanted to talk about Emma. Christopher didn’t know how many times he could tell them that he didn’t know what they wanted.
Christopher sat on a mound of sand. He was pleasantly surprised to find that it was actually quite comfortable to lie down on. From there he could watch the clouds as they passed along each other, overlapping to look like snow on the sky.
His vision started to flicker. He was aware of his head tilting back, his breathing getting deeper. He pinched his forearm, trying to keep himself awake. The skin turned white to match the sky. He let go and winced at the angry pink crescents that remained.
Christopher woke to find that his lips tasted of salt. He sat upright. He was drenched. The sea had washed over his entire body. It was a miracle that he hadn’t drowned. He jumped to his feet and yelped. The entire beach was lost under water. His feet sloshed towards a grassy bank at the top of the slope, now the only place not submerged. He was almost there when movement caught his eye. A swished of a tail. Big enough to be a shark.
He froze.
The water rippled from where the tail had been, spreading in rings that reached out to him. Panic rushed through him and he sprinted towards the grass, sweat beaded at his forehead as the water slowed him down. He wasn’t going to make it in time.
Something brushed against his legs and he yelled.
And then a face broke the surface of the water.
Its skin was a pale green. Its hair looked like clumps of orange seaweed that framed the creature’s face like a lion’s mane. Yellow marble eyes blinked at him. The creature reached out a tentative hand, and very, very slowly, it reached out and brushed Christopher’s shoulder with wet fingertips before jolting away again.
Christopher stared, his eyes wide. He copied the creature’s gesture and reached out, eager to touch its scaly skin, its webbed fingers. His hand was just an inch from the creature when it suddenly grabbed his wrist and dragged him under the water.
Christopher was aware of the sound of blood thumping in his temples. He screamed as they descended, propelled by the creature’s tail (which must have been twice the length of its body), and realised too late that he had just wasted his oxygen. He struggled, trying to work his wrist free, but the creature held on. It looked at him with frantic eyes and for the briefest moment, Christopher saw something familiar about it. It seemed desperate, not spiteful. Christopher stopped fighting.
They moved faster and faster until they hit some kind of invisible barrier that pulsed as they passed through it. The darkness of the deep sea became sapphire, became turquoise. The slimy seaweed that got tangled with Christopher’s legs released him, and was replaced with technicolour corals and underwater flowers. He could see stone ruins that looked as if they could house many creatures like the one holding his arm. The creature stopped swimming now and released Christopher’s arm. The moment they had passed into the colourful place, Christopher had been able to catch his breath. He gasped for air, wondering how this was possible so far beneath the surface of the water.
He tried to speak, but his words came out as muffled nonsense. He frowned, wanting to ask the creature why it had brought him here. And, what was the creature? Why was it all alone down here?
The creature watched him with intelligent eyes. Christopher realised what the look he had seen before was; loneliness. It was eager to show its new guest around its home.
Christopher smiled. He moved his limbs until he was confident with moving around this strange place. The creature showed him around the houses, where beds, tables and chairs had been carved into the rock by the water. He was shown fields of algae, forests of coral, and when he looked up, he saw thousands of moon jellyfish, their luminous white patterns lighting up the dark water above them like the stars above the surface.
The creature was staring at Christopher.
It wants me to stay here with it, he realised.
He hesitated. While it was true, earlier all he had wanted was to be away from his family, he knew that he would miss them. His stomach grumbled. He wondered what the creature ate down here? Suddenly he thought of Dad’s amazing Sunday dinners, Mum singing as she worked at her laptop, and Emma. What if Emma came back? He had to be there for when she did.
Christopher winced as he remembered that day. The day Emma had crept down the stairs in the middle of the night. She had forgotten that the seventh one creaked and it had woken Christopher up.
‘Go back to bed, Chris,’ she had whispered. ‘I won’t be out for long.’
He should have asked her where she was going, if she was ever coming back. All that he knew is that she had gone to the train station and disappeared.
He looked back up at the creature, waiting patiently for an answer.
He shook his head.
The creature swam closer, taking his hand again. It’s scaly skin soft between Christopher’s fingers. With a lurch, the creature swam straight up and into the blackness.
Christopher woke on dry sand, a tall figure standing over him.
For a moment, he thought it was the creature but then saw that the figure was standing on two legs. She was wearing the same jeans and black jacket as the night she had left and instead of seaweed, her head was covered with straight brown hair.
She helped Christopher to his feet. She was chewing her lip, eyes cast down.
‘I know I shouldn’t have left,’ she began. She got as far as I know before Christopher threw his arms around his older sister.
‘I knew you’d come back.’
The clouds broke up enough so that the sun could peek through as Emma and Christopher walked across the beach, over the grassy bank and towards home.