Zephyr Wolff

The Sea Was Alive

The air was cool and crisp as a figure made their way through the park. In the near distance, the sound of the tides crashing against the rocks nearly drowned out the sound of autumn leaves crunching beneath their feet. Each step crushed the dried foliage and rustled loose pieces around their tennis shoes. On the breeze the smell of the sea was potent, as if taking in a very nose full of the water itself. It had become dark by now, the world engulfed in the blanket of the night sky. Above, stars twinkled and danced. Beautiful. That was what Dean Carver thought as he came to a stop near the edge of the treeline. Beyond the firs that retained their needles, he could hear the sound of footsteps. Odd… Others tended to avoid the park at night. That was why he'd chosen to jog in the dark in the first place. At first the steps sounded slow and hesitant… They weren't jogging, but walking. No… Not walking. He realized that they were stumbling and falling over themselves like a newborn deer. Concern fell over him and he took a step toward the treeline.