The Rock, by Rebekah Lawrence
I’d sat there all day, on a rock staring out to sea; I sat there all day yesterday and I’ll sit there all day tomorrow and the day after that and forever more gazing out to sea, waiting to see the boat. But I never will. I stare in vain and without hope cursed to watch forever for a boat that will never come.
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She never should have been up on that rock, not in a storm. They say a monster hidden in a wave reached out and took her for his own; I trust that he treats her well, as I would have if he hadn’t stolen her from me like that. I was too late; my boat had sheltered from the storm, and we arrived on the next tide…too late to save her.
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I know that the boat will never come, because it has already come and I was not there to see it, I was not there to greet him. My beloved. At least I know he is safe, ashore, and mourning my loss although I can see him as I look up from my watery prison. I wish I had kept watch from farther away, just one rock back and I would have been there for him, for us.
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The village has gone mad; sea monsters are not real, and one did not steal my love; how can I believe that? I’ve asked them all, the ones who saw, and they all say they saw her taken by arms down into the depth, arms that reached out from the wave and took her from me. I’ve heard the ones who weren’t there too, their whispering, their lies; she wouldn’t have thrown herself down and there is no scandal, I’ll have no scandal associated with the memory of her.
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My captor’s name is Aleash, he is – and he isn’t – a monster; he doesn’t see what he’s done, he saw me on the rock and reached out to save me, bringing me down here to stay with him. He doesn’t understand my loss, my love, my life. Aleash has kept me safe, in this little space; I don’t know if I am dead, but I know I’ll never live again. My life is over as my life begins, I can’t stand it, so I go in my mind to the rock, and I sit there gazing out to sea, reaching out to him, caressing him.
****
So, I sit here all day on a rock, staring out to sea hoping to see her, or the monster that stole her away. I care not about waves, no matter how huge; if he comes for me at least we can be together again. But he never will, and I am still sitting here; but sometimes it seems she sits next to me, holding me with gentle caresses and we are together.
Rebekah Lawrence lives in Scotland. A Technical Author by day, her fiction is published in the 4th Six Word Wonder collection and on the Scottish Book Trust and Friday Night Fiction websites. She also provides ghostwriting services for web content and local businesses. Find out more about her at LinkedIn.
