about the end.
I wasn’t sure how much I would remember of this life, but I thought there was a possibility I would miss this— having Her as a constant companion. No matter where I went, I could sense Her. When it rained, I never ran for cover, knowing we could have staccato conversations in the middle of a storm. When fog would sink down and inhibit the view of world, She and I were whispering secrets. In the humidity of the rainforest, She would saturate the air, drawing me in for the gentlest embrace.
I loved Her. I hated what I had to do for Her, and sometimes I hated what She had done to me, but I loved Her.
The paths the others before me had taken were small in range. Marilyn had gone to a trade school under a new identity that the Ocean had provided. Money was only one of the many things the Ocean held in Her pockets. As technology improved, it was harder to deceive the outside world. Luckily, we had plenty of time to adapt.
One sister asked to be left by a convent, no doubt atoning for sins she assumed she would feel after she left. One married into nobility a few hundred years ago without ever intending to live that lifestyle. Lots became artists. Something about the Ocean awakened you to your ability to create. One actually became a professional singer. After years of keeping her mouth shut, she let her voice rain down on as many as would take her in. The Ocean gave me her name, and I looked up some of her scores. I don’t know if she had that gift before she was a sister, but if she did, it was no wonder she was chosen.
I had no such aspirations. The only thing I could maybe see myself doing was to continue working with the deaf. Maybe I could be a teacher. I really did find being around the teenagers easier than most, what with all my years of being a perpetual teen myself.
The only thing I was still looking forward to was marriage. Before I was taken, it was all I thought about, what I daydreamed about, what I dreamed about still. My parents were happy together, and I saw the romances in movies. Maybe that’s why I gave my affection so freely: I wanted desperately to be loved. With that thought in my head, I looked up…
And I saw him.
Before I could check my thoughts, She asked me who I thought was so handsome. I hated being caught like that. But it was just admiration from afar. Surely that was harmless.
There’s this boy on the beach. He’s tall and has dirty blonde hair. He’s very good-looking.
She wanted to know what was so special about him.
I don’t know. Maybe the expression on his face. He looks sad but hopeful somehow. Like he’s thinking about a million questions, but knows he has the answer to every one.
She commented that that was a lot to observe in less than five minutes.
I’ve become an excellent people-watcher.
She laughed. I wondered if She could sense me rolling my eyes.
He walked along in his thoughtful way. Every so often, he’d pick up a rock or a shell and try to skip it on the surface.
Does that hurt?
No, the rocks didn’t hurt. They tickled actually. The boats sometimes bothered Her. When She was close to exhaustion, they felt like cuts in Her liquid skin. Which reminded Her, barring some unseen disaster, She would need me within a few months. It gave me a quick chill, but I appreciated the extra warning.
He ran his fingers through his hair. It was long, unruly, and flashed like yellow fire in the wind. He was barefoot. Did he live around here then? Maybe he was on his way back to his shoes, his home. If he lived around here, maybe I could meet him.
She told me to stop that.
Sorry. Just daydreaming.
As he walked towards me, I fully took in what he was wearing. He had black slacks on, a button up white shirt that was partly untucked, and a black suit coat. He looked like he might have left a job interview or church. I had heard that some churches didn’t mind you going barefoot these days, but I hadn’t seen one around here. He took graceful steps, like
I wasn’t sure how much I would remember of this life, but I thought there was a possibility I would miss this— having Her as a constant companion. No matter where I went, I could sense Her. When it rained, I never ran for cover, knowing we could have staccato conversations in the middle of a storm. When fog would sink down and inhibit the view of world, She and I were whispering secrets. In the humidity of the rainforest, She would saturate the air, drawing me in for the gentlest embrace.
I loved Her. I hated what I had to do for Her, and sometimes I hated what She had done to me, but I loved Her.
The paths the others before me had taken were small in range. Marilyn had gone to a trade school under a new identity that the Ocean had provided. Money was only one of the many things the Ocean held in Her pockets. As technology improved, it was harder to deceive the outside world. Luckily, we had plenty of time to adapt.
One sister asked to be left by a convent, no doubt atoning for sins she assumed she would feel after she left. One married into nobility a few hundred years ago without ever intending to live that lifestyle. Lots became artists. Something about the Ocean awakened you to your ability to create. One actually became a professional singer. After years of keeping her mouth shut, she let her voice rain down on as many as would take her in. The Ocean gave me her name, and I looked up some of her scores. I don’t know if she had that gift before she was a sister, but if she did, it was no wonder she was chosen.
I had no such aspirations. The only thing I could maybe see myself doing was to continue working with the deaf. Maybe I could be a teacher. I really did find being around the teenagers easier than most, what with all my years of being a perpetual teen myself.
The only thing I was still looking forward to was marriage. Before I was taken, it was all I thought about, what I daydreamed about, what I dreamed about still. My parents were happy together, and I saw the romances in movies. Maybe that’s why I gave my affection so freely: I wanted desperately to be loved. With that thought in my head, I looked up…
And I saw him.
Before I could check my thoughts, She asked me who I thought was so handsome. I hated being caught like that. But it was just admiration from afar. Surely that was harmless.
There’s this boy on the beach. He’s tall and has dirty blonde hair. He’s very good-looking.
She wanted to know what was so special about him.
I don’t know. Maybe the expression on his face. He looks sad but hopeful somehow. Like he’s thinking about a million questions, but knows he has the answer to every one.
She commented that that was a lot to observe in less than five minutes.
I’ve become an excellent people-watcher.
She laughed. I wondered if She could sense me rolling my eyes.
He walked along in his thoughtful way. Every so often, he’d pick up a rock or a shell and try to skip it on the surface.
Does that hurt?
No, the rocks didn’t hurt. They tickled actually. The boats sometimes bothered Her. When She was close to exhaustion, they felt like cuts in Her liquid skin. Which reminded Her, barring some unseen disaster, She would need me within a few months. It gave me a quick chill, but I appreciated the extra warning.
He ran his fingers through his hair. It was long, unruly, and flashed like yellow fire in the wind. He was barefoot. Did he live around here then? Maybe he was on his way back to his shoes, his home. If he lived around here, maybe I could meet him.
She told me to stop that.
Sorry. Just daydreaming.
As he walked towards me, I fully took in what he was wearing. He had black slacks on, a button up white shirt that was partly untucked, and a black suit coat. He looked like he might have left a job interview or church. I had heard that some churches didn’t mind you going barefoot these days, but I hadn’t seen one around here. He took graceful steps, like
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