The Beach Woman

Many years ago the world was divided in two; the beach people and the city people. The beach people kept to themselves and respected the Gods and balance of nature. The city people were modern and had refused to respect the balance of nature and had evolved into selfish beings that only cared about what they could take and use for themselves. The beach people and the city people did not align so they agreed to never cross paths until—The Beach Woman.

One day two fishermen saw a beautiful woman washed up on the shore. Her hair was glossed over her crystal-like skin—that was the color of mocha mixed with deep red wine. She was like a shining ruby buried in sand. She was dressed in silk and had gold anklets. The fisherman frantically reached for her but she put her hand up and said,

“There is no need for that, young man.”

“Young man?” the fisherman questioned. The woman in the sand appeared to be younger than the older fisherman. The woman sat up and the sand fell off her body like water. She looked up at the fishermen with sweet eyes.

“I know I appear young and fragile—but I assure you, I am older than time and strong as a God. Continue with your fish—there’s plenty.”

“I’m not so sure about that, miss. The ocean has lacked fish due to the pollution of the city and there have been many storms.”

“I assure you—there will be plenty of fish.” The Beach Woman digs her hands in the sand creating castles and suddenly fish begin to jump around in the water. The water begins to clear, and the fishermen’s eyes widen and they run to the ocean gathering more fish than their nets could hold.

“What are you?” one of the fishermen asks.

“I am The Beach Woman. I keep the balance—as long as I’m not moved, I will support your people as your land.”

The fishermen nodded and thanked The Beach Woman as she continued to build her sandcastles. The fishermen reported back to the village where the beach people lived. It was a small community filled with mini food and clothes shops and other goods. Within the communities were huts carved with brick with sand plastered on the outside. The city people judged the beach people’s simple way of life. It was simple but beneficial for them and for the balance of nature. Their way of living didn’t produce harmful chemicals that poisoned the land—unlike the city people. They didn’t have tall fancy buildings but it was still home.

“Everyone! Look!” one of the fishermen yell holding the overflowing nets of fish. Everyone in the beach village gathered around in shock.

“There is a woman on the beach that gives gifts of fish!” The beach people rejoice that their main food source has returned.

“She has stopped the poison in our water and now—we won’t starve or rely on the jungle leaves or sour dough that lacks flavor.” Without question the beach people supplied their homes and shops with the clean fish. Everyone was rejoicing with gratitude as they took fish home to cook. Many families celebrated no longer starving. The beach people did not question the woman on the beach nor did they go to see the goddess at work; they all accepted the gifts blindly—all but one girl.

Her name was Myria. She was the daughter of the only two doctors in the village and was respected well. Her parents were always skeptical of God-like beings and gifts from above—so naturally so was she. As soon as she heard the news she raced to her parents’ practice to tell them. She pushed through crowds of people hollering and crying tears of joy. She was the only one with dry eyes and wasn’t yet moved.

The girl pushed through the curtains to find her mother and father helping the sickly.

“Myria. You know you aren’t supposed to visit during the morning hours,” her mother scolds as she wraps up a patient with cloth. Her father comes behind another curtain with hands covered in blood.

“Myria. What are you doing here?” her father asks as he rinses his hands with water and soap.

“Mama. Papa. There’s fish… a woman brought fish.”

“Did she come on a boat?” her mother asks.

“No—she sits on the beach. The fishermen told us after fishing. They had full nets of fish,” Myria says.

“Hm. It’s no good, Myria. The water is poisoned,” her father says.

“No, Papa—the fish are clean. They aren’t discolored or with bad odor—they’re fresh. She brought fresh fish.”

“How? The water is unclean,” her mother questions as she folds her arms.

“I don’t know… the fishermen said she gave us fish.”

“Myria, I don’t want you eating the fish. It’s dangerous and most likely poisonous. Tell the chief to pause the supply until your mother and I examine it,” her father says as he puts his mask on, preparing for another appointment.

Myria leaves feeling discouraged, she knew better than to believe in the fairytales but she couldn’t help her curiosity. For months the fish had been obviously poisoned by pollution and oil from the city people but these fish looked like they were gifts from God. They were clean and fresh and there was variety. The beach people often only caught salmon and tuna but these fish were different from anything they ever saw. It was flounder, catfish, even codfish. Fish they didn’t even know would come to their part of the shore. It wasn’t logical and she knew that—which made it more interesting.

Myria approached the chief’s tent—he sat on a pile of sand and was fanned with leaves and often had oracles and our religious leaders praying with him to restore balance—he was a kind leader.

“Hello, daughter Myria. I know why you’re here—your parents are worried about the fish. I assure you this fish is safe—it’s from the heavens.”

“How do you know?”

“The Gods told me—for months I have been praying for our people to taste the fish our beautiful ocean provided once again and they told me they would provide it, they will send their most kind, most fierce, and most beautiful Goddess of all—The Beach Woman.”

“The Beach Woman?” Myria questioned.

“Yes—in some cultures she goes by Mother Nature, Gaia, or as our people have always called her—The Beach Woman. For centuries she has restored and kept balance in the places she is needed most and now she has found herself here—on our beach. So please, young Myria—eat.” The chief smiles as he slices into the cooked fish. His eyes light up and his smile grows wide as he chews—and tears stream down his face.

“This is a gift from God,” he says as if it was the first time he has eaten anything. Myria rushed out the chief’s hut in shock. She couldn’t believe he did not immediately fall ill from the fish that was once in a poisoned sea. She needed answers—she needed to see The Beach Woman for herself.

She raced to the beach and as soon as she got to the shore—she stopped. There she was—The Beach Woman. She was facing the shore and crafting beautiful sparkling white sandcastles. The sand on the beach was a tan color but where The Beach Woman stood—it was white as snow and shined like diamonds.

“Hello, Myria,” she says as she digs her hands in the sand.

“Who are you?” Myria asks as she squints.

“You know who I am.”

“You told the fishermen—so tell me.”

“Oh but, Myria, they really didn’t know—but you do. We have met in your dreams.” Myria was shocked—she always had weird dreams of woman in the sea that gave her gifts and fun stories her parents wouldn’t understand. She was an imaginative young child but her parents told her believing in fairytales would only get her killed. So she stopped believing in the woman who gave her dreams—and hasn’t dreamed of her since.

“That was just make believe. Fairy tales will get you killed,” Myria says, inching closer to the Goddess.

“If you truly believed that, you would not have come,” The Beach Woman says, turning around. Myria jumps back—The Beach Woman had eyes that were completely white and her hair blew effortlessly in the breeze as her crystal skin reflected the light of the sun.

“No need to be afraid—come.” The Beach Woman holds out her hand. Myria shakes her head in fear but The Beach Woman smiles and extends her arm an extra foot, lightly touching Myria. Myria’s feet rise as she moves closer to the Goddess in the air.

“What’s happening? Why am I floating? Please don’t kill me.”

“I would never kill a living creature—it would be like committing suicide,” The Beach Woman says, placing Myria in the sand beside her.

“You must trust me, Myria. I only will bring balance and support the balance—as long as I am never moved.”

“What happens if you are moved?”

“Let’s hope we never experience that—for both of our sake.” The two fell quiet as the waves pushed and pulled—the water was no longer brown and black with debris—but shimmered blue and crystal clear under the sun.

“Are you Mother Nature?” Myria asks.

“That is one of my names—the chief told you that.”

“Right… but it’s not just the water and food… the storms have wiped some of us out and our homes have been destroyed. I know nature is angry with our neighbors, the city people. But that’s not our fault.” Myria pleads as she grips onto the Goddess. The Beach Woman lightly places her hand on hers—Myria was shocked for her to feel as if she was made out of air.

“You have no bones,” Myria says as she looks up at the Goddess. She smiles down at Myria and Myria smiles back.

“I assure you there will be no more storms. Nature knows your people are kind and respect the balance—you will go unpunished as long as I am not moved.”

Myria was almost convinced until she saw the high tide. The waves almost touched her feet almost fifteen feet away.

“We will see,” Myria says as she stares into the sea.

After her visit with The Beach Woman she returned home to find the village preparing for another life-threatening storm. She looked back at the beach and saw the Goddess building sandcastles but moving faster than light—as if she was preparing something. Myria shook her head out of skepticism and gathered supplies to help protect her home. As she walked through her hut she saw her mother and father preparing the fish the Goddess had provided.

“You were right, Myria—this fish is edible. I don’t know which port she came from—but she must return. We must give her silk and herbs in exchange,” her father says as he dips the fish into hot oil.

“But Papa—she did not come from a port. I think… she is from heaven.”

“Myria…” her mother starts as she folds her arms.

“I know… fairy tales get you killed. But not this time… this is real. I’ve seen her… in my dreams.”

“Oh, daughter, you were just a baby then. Now, enough jokes—go set up the defense. A terrible storm is coming,” Myria’s father says, wagging his finger.

Myria sighs and gathers her supplies. She returns outside to see the village darkened by the clouds, she squints her eyes towards the beach and sees the Goddess now completely still. She shakes her head—she feels like a fool. She felt as if she fell for a trick that a magician made and, obeyed her father by setting up the defense she realized she now needed, more than ever.

The next day Myria heard hooting and hollering from outside her hut. She assumed her home had gotten hit terribly by the storm and raced outside. But to her shock—they were celebrating. There was music, laughter, and dancing in the street. Myria’s smile spread across her face as she realized her home wasn’t in ruin and her people were safe. She even saw her mother and father enjoying festivities and dancing.

Myria races to the beach and sees The Beach Woman calmly building sandcastles.

“Beach Woman!” Myria shouts from afar. The Beach Woman turns around and smiles with a wave following. Myria approaches calmly.

“Sit,” the Goddess says, smiling.

“You saved us,” Myria says, sitting.

“I told you—no more storms,” she says, caressing the top of Myria’s head.

“You really are from heaven.” The Beach Woman chuckles.

“No human has ever humored me—you truly are one of a kind.”

“Is that why you came to my dreams as a baby?”

“I came because you and I—have a similar heart and soul. We are the same—one day you will understand and see how special you will be.”

Myria’s joy and bliss quickly turned to confusion and fear. She wanted to ask questions about what the Goddess meant but she decided to keep her worries to herself and enjoy the miracle from the heavens—The Beach Lady. The Beach Lady continued to bring the people of the beach joy and balance. The village was provided with fresh seafood, a calm sea, and even good crops for vegetables and fruits. Life and balance was restored to the people of the beach. Even Myria’s parents began to believe in what they once called “make believe.”

Weeks into The Beach Woman’s arrival the village was booming with joy and endless supply of food and safe waters. The children played freely in the waters as The Beach Woman tended to her sandcastles—and everyday she would tell Myria stories of how she kept the balance. Everyday Myria believed more and eventually she was the girl that believed again.

About four weeks after The Beach Woman’s arrival, the village decided to throw a celebration on the beach in her honor. The beach people brought gifts and food to the Goddess as well as their thanks. The chief himself—bowed down to the heavenly creature as a thank you for saving them from starvation and devastation.

In the midst of the celebration Myria noticed the Beach Lady had not touched her food.

“Is it not to your liking?” Myria asked, sitting beside her as the sun set above the sea.

“Oh—no, I’m sure it’s wonderful but this food would do me no good. Creatures such as myself have no reason to eat—me indulging would be a waste. You take it to your family—your father can save his money for the week.”

“Mrs. Beach Lady?” Myria asks.

“What is it, child?”

“What did you mean when you said we had a similar soul and one day I will see how special I am?” The question had buzzed around Myria’s head for weeks but she held onto the question out of fear. She did not know what fate awaited her but she knew something was going to change.

“Don’t be afraid, Myria. I cannot guide you on this—but you must trust yourself and fight fear.”

Myria grew frustrated—she needed answers not prophecies.

“But what exactly can you not guide me on?” Myria asked as she tugged onto the Goddess’s silky gown. But the Goddess remained silent.

“Fine. You help everyone else without asking—but when we ask we get nothing. Some God you are.” Myria stomps away out of anger. She couldn’t understand how her friend—The Beach Lady, could leave her in the dark.

The next day Myria felt guilty for getting frustrated with the Goddess and decided to apologize and agree to remain patient but fearless. But this morning was different—the clouds were grey and dark as if a storm was coming. The sea was black and rough and the sand was covered in debris. There were no fish in the sea and The Beach Woman was being carried off the beach. Myria’s heart began to pound rapidly as she raced barefoot on the beach, the whole village was silent and only a few poked their heads out their windows.

Myria continued to run towards the Goddess but as she approached something was different. She was lifeless in the arms of a man that was covered in a metal exterior and he carried a sword—it was the leader of the city people. The Beach Woman’s skin no longer had its rich cocoa complexion and no longer shined like rubies. Her gown was no longer silk but rags and her hair was thin and grey at the ends.

“STOP!” Myria yells as the city ruler prepares to place the Goddess on his ship.

“Go home, peasant girl—I’M taking this Goddess as my wife.”

“You can’t! She is from the heavens—a goddess called The Beach Woman. She must remain on this beach to keep the balance.”

“You people and this make believe! You are silly and weak minded—she is just a woman who is beautiful and will serve me well as a wife.”

“You’re making her sick! You are vile! Can’t you see what you’re doing to the earth. You city people have poisoned this land for the last time.”

Myria takes a step forward and runs into the city leader causing him to drop the Goddess.

“Myria!” The chief calls out to her as she is laid out onto the debris-filled beach. She attempts to move but realizes a shard of glass is deep in her thigh. Her veins began to be poisoned with black. She grows weak—but notices The Beach Woman also laid out next to her.

“Beach Lady, you must wake up,” Myria pleads as she shakes the goddess that once was.

“Myria. Are you alright?” The chief says, hovering over her. But Myria was not alright—the poison from the debris had leaked into her bloodstream. She was afraid and disappointed that she and the Goddess were doomed.

“Young Myria,” The Beach Woman whispers. Myria looks over and The Beach Lady has eyes like her—no longer white but human-like.

“Beach Woman?” Myria struggles. She rises up and takes her hand and so does the chief.

“What have you done to her?” the city ruler asks.

“You mean what have YOU done?” Myria says in a low tone. She holds on to The Beach Lady’s hand and begins to pray. The city ruler attempts to remove Myria but once he lands his hand on her—he is pushed into the sea. Myria remained focused on the Goddess and her prayer—she wasn’t aware of her sudden strength and she didn’t care. The chief backs away as if he knows what will happen very soon.

“Oh, young Myria—you will save us all.” The chief whispers. Myria takes both of The Beach Woman’s hands and shouts into the sky.

“GODS OF MOTHER EARTH FORGIVE US AND REMAIN THE BALANCE AND PEACE OF NATURE.”

The Beach Lady’s decaying body turns into dust—blinding the chief. Myria’s eyes go white and she sits up. The sky clears, the poison leaves the sea, and the beach returns to its debris-free state. The chief—curled into a ball with his eyes closed—finally opens them and looks over to Myria and what he sees brings him to tears of joy.

Myria, who was once a young girl, had transformed into a beautiful woman. Her hair had gone from shoulder length to her feet, it glistened like black diamonds in the sun. Her skin remained tan but glistened in the sun like citrine. Her nightgown transformed into a silky dress and her eyes—white. The chief’s eyes widen and he sees Myria building white sandcastles.

“Myria…” the chief says as he stands.

“There is no need to be afraid—young chief.” The chief cries tears of joy although it was a great loss—she was reborn.

“I am The Beach Woman and I keep the balance as long as I’m not moved—I will support your people and your land.”

Thank you for reading!🫂💌