Chapter 1
Beached
Psalm 139
In seas of sorrow, seas of woe
Just grant me this—to love you so!
She sat filtering sand with her hands, fingering shells and their fragments, wishing she could see their colors. Until the surf reclaimed her attention. The roar of the rote sounded especially turbulent today. As if the ocean hadn’t slept through the night and in its restlessness it sought solace.
Syrena didn’t know why, but the sensation swept over her, pulling her into the depth of its body, to deliver comfort. She supposed it was her own console she desperately wanted. Yes, to witness the waves crashing, watch the shorebirds fly over the billows without a burden. To partake of the seeing universe, envision the horizon in its expansive beauty. Instead, that world banished her.
An especially loud gull cried. Syrena reached out to touch the bird overhead, for the fowl loomed close, so close. She let her hand drop to her side when she detected the bird had drifted back over water. The water she longed to meet. A part of her spirit bade her to step into the wake, experience the eternal push and pull of the tide. Splash with joyful abandon, an odd sort of fulfillment, as her two sisters did now, squealing with delight. Another part of her feared to unleash that desire, an urge that might swallow her up with the heavy blanket of fatality, consumed by an ocean’s devouring might.
The heavy thumps of her older sister, Gywn, shot past. Syrena, now drizzled with sea spray, stared in the direction of her little sister, Steffi, who would soon trail after. Just then, Steffi’s delicate footfall echoed by, but the younger one’s whining made up for her lighter feet. Syrena suppressed a smile that seemed to have its own mind, vacillating between broadening and frowning. She wished to get up and run like her sisters. Their races often seemed propelled by the wind—nothing could stop them! In her blindness, Syrena couldn’t take two steps without stumbling.
Gwyn and Steffi bounced into the wake again, as boisterous as ever.
Syrena expelled a disquieting sigh. Sometimes her saddened heart felt like it would fold unto itself, tightly bound, turning solid like ice, hard and unmoving. She bowed her head. She could never participate in Gwyn and Steffi’s carefree frolic. She would never join the sea’s symphony and survive.
“What are you doing, Syrena? Just sitting there all alone. Come splash in the waves with us.” Her approaching sister tried to pull her up.
Droplets of seawater assailed Syrena’s skin. Goosebumps rose on her arms. “Don’t, Steffi. Let me be. I’m content to listen to the surf.” She huffed. “Stop. You’re getting me wet.”
“It’s about time you got into the water. You’re almost a woman now.”
“Almost?” Gwyn, her other sister approached, poking fun. “She is a woman. And turning the heads of all the men in the village, that’s what she’s doing.” Gwyn giggled.
“No man would want a blind woman,” Syrena protested.
“Pshaw,” Gwyn exclaimed. “All a man wants—”
“Oh, just stop it,” Steffi, the youngest, covered her ears.
“Well, it’s true.” She eyed Syrena openly, unbeknownst to her. “A pretty face she’s got and that fair curly hair. Need I mention her greatest attributes?” At that, Steffi chuckled with nervousness as Gwyn moved her hands over an invisible hourglass.
“You’re not being very nice.” Syrena glanced in the direction of an especially loud wave that crashed against the shore, reaching to kiss the tips of her toes. She drew her legs in and rested her head on her knees.
The three sisters lingered in silence for a spell, absorbing the sun’s offering for the day.
“Well, anyway,” Steffi said. “It’s high time you got over your fear of the sea. You’ve lived at its edge your entire life and you haven’t even put your feet in.”
“I don’t have to. And I don’t need to listen to you.” Syrena wanted to be left alone. She
Beached
Psalm 139
In seas of sorrow, seas of woe
Just grant me this—to love you so!
She sat filtering sand with her hands, fingering shells and their fragments, wishing she could see their colors. Until the surf reclaimed her attention. The roar of the rote sounded especially turbulent today. As if the ocean hadn’t slept through the night and in its restlessness it sought solace.
Syrena didn’t know why, but the sensation swept over her, pulling her into the depth of its body, to deliver comfort. She supposed it was her own console she desperately wanted. Yes, to witness the waves crashing, watch the shorebirds fly over the billows without a burden. To partake of the seeing universe, envision the horizon in its expansive beauty. Instead, that world banished her.
An especially loud gull cried. Syrena reached out to touch the bird overhead, for the fowl loomed close, so close. She let her hand drop to her side when she detected the bird had drifted back over water. The water she longed to meet. A part of her spirit bade her to step into the wake, experience the eternal push and pull of the tide. Splash with joyful abandon, an odd sort of fulfillment, as her two sisters did now, squealing with delight. Another part of her feared to unleash that desire, an urge that might swallow her up with the heavy blanket of fatality, consumed by an ocean’s devouring might.
The heavy thumps of her older sister, Gywn, shot past. Syrena, now drizzled with sea spray, stared in the direction of her little sister, Steffi, who would soon trail after. Just then, Steffi’s delicate footfall echoed by, but the younger one’s whining made up for her lighter feet. Syrena suppressed a smile that seemed to have its own mind, vacillating between broadening and frowning. She wished to get up and run like her sisters. Their races often seemed propelled by the wind—nothing could stop them! In her blindness, Syrena couldn’t take two steps without stumbling.
Gwyn and Steffi bounced into the wake again, as boisterous as ever.
Syrena expelled a disquieting sigh. Sometimes her saddened heart felt like it would fold unto itself, tightly bound, turning solid like ice, hard and unmoving. She bowed her head. She could never participate in Gwyn and Steffi’s carefree frolic. She would never join the sea’s symphony and survive.
“What are you doing, Syrena? Just sitting there all alone. Come splash in the waves with us.” Her approaching sister tried to pull her up.
Droplets of seawater assailed Syrena’s skin. Goosebumps rose on her arms. “Don’t, Steffi. Let me be. I’m content to listen to the surf.” She huffed. “Stop. You’re getting me wet.”
“It’s about time you got into the water. You’re almost a woman now.”
“Almost?” Gwyn, her other sister approached, poking fun. “She is a woman. And turning the heads of all the men in the village, that’s what she’s doing.” Gwyn giggled.
“No man would want a blind woman,” Syrena protested.
“Pshaw,” Gwyn exclaimed. “All a man wants—”
“Oh, just stop it,” Steffi, the youngest, covered her ears.
“Well, it’s true.” She eyed Syrena openly, unbeknownst to her. “A pretty face she’s got and that fair curly hair. Need I mention her greatest attributes?” At that, Steffi chuckled with nervousness as Gwyn moved her hands over an invisible hourglass.
“You’re not being very nice.” Syrena glanced in the direction of an especially loud wave that crashed against the shore, reaching to kiss the tips of her toes. She drew her legs in and rested her head on her knees.
The three sisters lingered in silence for a spell, absorbing the sun’s offering for the day.
“Well, anyway,” Steffi said. “It’s high time you got over your fear of the sea. You’ve lived at its edge your entire life and you haven’t even put your feet in.”
“I don’t have to. And I don’t need to listen to you.” Syrena wanted to be left alone. She
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