A call from the ocean

Marcus looked out towards the ocean, the water stretching from one side of the earth to the other and he felt an indescribable emptiness sink into his chest. The grey and lonely sea cried a million tears, drawing the weak and hopeless to its depths. Marcus sometimes felt he could become one of its victims, like he could drown out there, tangled amongst choking seaweed. When he had been younger he used to race down to the shore, letting his arms catch in the wind. He would feel the shells crunch beneath his toes and look down as he let them scratch sharply into him. He never seemed to care of the pain of a thousand shells causing blood to drip from his skin. He would sit on the edge of the sand where the vast ocean lapped against him and let the salt water sting him like bees in his eyes. How lonely he felt, there all alone and into the night he would sit, he would wait, wait, and wait. Sometimes the ocean would speak to him, howling and panting it would scream in his direction, but often it was just the voice of a lonely fisherman who had spent countless hours without catching a fish.

It had been 6 years before, March 4th 1999, when Marcus had come down to the ocean, leaving the little weatherboard house he lived in. His father and him had brought a fishing rod each and a tiny little dingy that had been passed down through family members. they set off at 5am with coats and weatherproof jackets, yellow and shiny, draped over their bodies. They looked out upon the water in the same way Marcus always had, the face of excitement, yet overwhelming fear at the same moment. Staring into the abyss of nothingness they started to leave the shore. If Marcus had of known what the day would encounter he would never have gone out in the boat, but unbeknown to him he hopped in behind his father and viciously the tide pulled them out in one swoop. They spent hours out there, throwing their lines and watching as a red sun rose slowly into the sky. As the day progressed, their 2 fish turned to 11 and they smiled in disbelief. the water was so still, silent except for the ever so slight sound of the boat rocking gently. Marcus looked at his father with concern. The ocean knew how to play violent tricks. To be so still and then, to be a storm of ferocious waves.

As the day stretched out into an afternoon daze Marcus felt the water shaking. The sky was shaded by a grey tint and his fathers voice became more and more faint, lost in the shouts of the ocean.

"Papa!" a scream from red chapped lips came from Marcus. He looked in fear as his father reeled in the lines and did his best to steady the boat. The sky looked as if it had been eaten by a monster as green, grey and black twisted around them.

"hold on to the boat my son, hold on!" and his father's eyes, blue and deep twirled around him, like the ocean. Waves lapped against the boat, forcing it to its disposal and the one life jacket was thrown over Marcus' small and fragile body. As the rain began to hit the metal, Marcus and his father felt their ears banging with discomfort and within seconds Marcus turned around to see... nothing. No sight of his father could be traced, as if the ocean had eaten him in a split second.

Marcus lay on the sand and felt it carve a shape around his body. His eyes were drenched in tears and as he opened them he woke up from his nightmare. Thinking about that day was beyond painful and he remembered the sound of his father's soft and steady voice leading him back to safety. How he never could have imagined he would leave the ocean alone that day and how he knew now he would never enter its depths again.

For the next 6 years Marcus stood at the ocean's evil opening, watching and waiting for his father, watching and waiting for his papa to return.