Oceana and the Spirit of the Western Wind

A young girl sat on the edge of an igneous rock jutting out from the waves which splashed up against the side of it spraying the girls face with a cool gentle mist, while the tips of the white frothy ripples tickled the bottom of her feet. Her name was Oceana, the second youngest daughter to the sea god Poseidon and a fallen star. She belonged to the sea as it was her birthplace, but she always dreamed of what it was like outside this sphere of existence.

She brushed her palm over the musical conch shell she held between her slender webbed fingers and played the song of the Winds. As the sound carried off into the midst, she sang a peaceful melody composed not of words but a vocalization of soft tranquil hums and chants, a language only those of her kind knew.

Her inquisitive sea foam-green eyes curiously scanned the horizon for sign of a ship. Their white sails were usually visible around this time of day. As she lay basking in the mid afternoon sun, patiently awaiting their arrival, the clouds had gathered in a shadowy dense mass slowly edging across the horizon. Their threatening shapes concealed a greater part of the sky preventing the sun from peeking out, though here and there minuscule beams of heavenly light escaped through tiny pockets in the clouds. They were ripe with an oncoming storm.

A gentle breeze which had been blowing through most of the day, soon picked up, combing invisible fingers through her azure hair. The hibiscus flower tucked behind her ear propelled away into a gust of its heavy breath. The light soon departed with the movement of the storm and the waves began to thrash against the headland. The girl howled in excitement, as it commenced, waving her arms in sync with the thrift pulse of the turbid waters. She cried ecstatic by the cool chill of ocean spray, the droplets striking her thin pale skin, like little pinpricks while the crystalline water shimmered down off the pearly translucent scales on her arms and legs.

The force of the wind lunged her backward into the furious tide. She landed on the bottom, stirring up a billow of sand. Intent on reclaiming her rock, she sprang from the sea floor, porpoised as her dolphin friends had taught her; arching her back and swimming upwards with her arms tucked against her side, and finally bowing out of the water. As her face struck the air, a great surge knocked her back into the rock she had previously occupied. She hit against it, splayed across the surface like a young starfish as her sleek pale arms grappled the recesses in the rock to prevent her from slipping into the undertow, where she’d be swept towards the rocky shore.

Fists of thunder pounded against the sea reverberating in the heavens. Shaken from a temporary spell, she awoke just in time to witness a ray of electric fire brandish the horizon. Columns of blinding light snaked rapidly across it. She averted her gaze, her body shivering violently at the intensity of the lightning strikes, the scales illuminated by the devastating zig-zags of light.

The vivacity in her vibrant green eyes grew as sharp as tempered steel as she sought to discover the secret to this anomaly. She wondered what it must be like to be a sailor on that brutal ocean, bound for home, but lost in the storm as those luminous plumes pummeled his ship to fiery splinters. She laughed aloud in spite of herself, through the percussion of thunder clapping the sky and dove back under only to reemerge at the edge of a beautiful silent reef. Below the waters were as calm and still as a child in dreamland but above the storm raged on like stag deer fighting on a plain. Grave, mountainous waves pushed simultaneously against one another, unsure of which direction to follow, lead astray from their original course by the winds treacherous current.

How much farther would she be able to swim to those brilliant pillars grazing the surface, like an enchantresses fingers scrying a bowl of water foretelling of the fate of this black abyss? She dared not venture further for fear of being extinguished. They were getting close within her proximity, and now she sought to safely distance herself from their onslaught.

Soon the sea’s play grew rougher and an enormous breaker came plummeting over her from where she treaded below, sending her spiraling down towards the depths. She caught herself, staring longingly and with intrigue at the world above. She swam back against the current, her fins curling around her figure to help her gain altitude. She fought her way up, but a powerful swell grabbed her and tossed her like a flying trapeze artist across the surf. Once she’d lifted her head to take a deep gulp of fresh air she shook her fists at the storm infuriated. A wave towered over her and she to slow to swim out of its path, before a mountain of sea water engulfed her.

Now she was caught within the spiraling swell and had but one opportunity to escape it. She had perfected this skill long ago. She’d done it countless of times at high tide since it had once been a favorite past time of her people—though they seldom took pleasure in it, as she in enjoying life above water—they would ride the surf on their bellies. Because their bodies reacted naturally to the ebb and flow of the sea, as generally a number of marine life do, the bottom of their feet were attracted to the water’s salty buoyant surface and they could stand, held up in a similar way that birds can fly, as long as they’d been properly taught the stance, which was usually ingrained in them at a very young age, since they weren’t introduced to walking on land until they had accomplished this feat.

Carefully treading inside the wave until it was high enough to break surface, like the Siren she was born to be, she gracefully broke through the white capped peak of the wave conveying her across the sea. She rose up, her arms outstretched behind her and her legs bent just enough so she could keep her balance. She could just imagine what her father would say if he saw her chasing these monstrous waves and dancing among the lightning. She’d never hear the end of it. And so she rode the seemingly never-ending fetch, until the sea was even too powerful for her to oppose. She was about to dive back under, as she was now exhausted from this little game. She would have a tough time of navigating her way back home, for the island that had marked a halfway checkpoint, was nowhere in sight.

Had she really been driven so far out? She dove frantically underwater in search of a significant land mark, but the sea was cold and seemingly depthless. She began to panic and rose back up. Then suddenly out of her hopelessness as if the gods had felt the terror in her heart, the clouds divided revealing a fracture of golden light which radiated through her surroundings calming the sea around her. The waves grew gentler becoming thin and wispy.

The wind was like a solid entity and swept round her caressing the exposed flesh like a feathery gown. She shivered at its touch. Like a great invisible hand cupping its fingers under her, she was lifted up, out of the water and into the air. She became overwhelmed uncertain of the fate which lay in wait for her. To her horror she could not move to escape this mysterious grasp. She could struggle no more, eluded by confusion, she fell into a deep slumber.

Is this what death felt like? Did she dare open her eyes for fear of this truth? Would she see the Great Oyster emitting its tremendous light? It was so quiet, the silence frightened her.

She kept her eyes closed, for fear of what she might discover and felt around her body. The bed under her was warm like sun, sand and air fused into one. She reluctantly opened her eyes, as she had become prey to curiosity for the hundredth time. The sky was a coverlet of wool pierced by gold shears, veins of light ebbed through the delicate firmament, casting shadowy patterns over their lower counterparts. She was completely exposed to the sun’s rays, and not a single scale remained on her body, for she had molted quickly in the heat. She remained naked, the golden light etching strange figures across her bare skin.

She began to become overwhelmed again by what she saw, until a voice spoke, not loud and sonorous like the peal of thunder, but gentle and serene like that of a minstrel. “You are safe.” It told her in attempt to calm her troubled thoughts. “Please find comfort in my place of refuge.”

She then discovered her own voice and demanded to know why she had been taken here against her will.

“To keep you safe from the storm.”

“The storm had dispersed before you took me away.”

But it was still raging below her as the voice revealed through a break in the cloud floor. It paused as he had commanded it to so that he could swoop down to rescue the sea maiden, and then once she was safe away had resumed its play just as fierce and terrible as before.

“I am Zephyrus, Spirit of the Western Wind. Since you were a child I have watched from afar, for you sang my song very prettily but alas I could not come down from my high place to introduce myself. Even now I cannot remain idle.”

She asked the wind why? He replied how he envied the land and sea, for there was very little freedom above the clouds. She laughed and told him how silly he sounded. He sighed and began to descend. Through the breach in the floor she could see for miles across a great continent. She was watching the earth from a bird’s eye view. He soared beyond her homeland to places she never could have imagined. The wind moved like the tide over desert wastelands, swirling vortexes of sand creating dunes like the ones she played on above the shore, and rainforests yielding massive trees and dense vegetation, resembling the kelp fields, and over snowcapped mountains and rocky terrain which reminded her of the dead corral reefs and of her home. The cities of man were a marvel to her, the unique architecture and edifices they had erected in ancient times. The land was marked by their passing, where areas had been cultivated and irrigated to produce bread to sustain them. As the Wind dipped lower to cast his shadowy reflection over the earth, she could see creatures of various sorts unknown to her world.

Time quickly passed without her taking much notice. The Sun melted into night, and the Moon arose from her glorious marble palace in the east. She was round and full, casting out tendrils of white light from her white fingertips.

From here Oceana could point out her mother’s star within the multitude of peaceful glowing orbs. A blue stone fastened around her neck was proof of her mother’s love, a single tear she had shed for her child, which fell into the sea, to hold close to her heart forever which radiated from a piece of her soul. She thanked the wind and hummed its song, while the breeze trailed off across the lands for those who lived below to hear. It carried on forever, just as the wind would never cease to move, but remain in perpetual flight.

The movement of the wind soon lulled her to sleep for she had grown weary of their adventure. He wished her a pleasant sleep and not to be afraid for he’d never let harm come to her as long as he remained at his high place. He lifted her sleeping form and placed her on the moonlit beach of a small island she knew well. With a soft kiss upon her cheek he left her dreaming to continue his endless journey westward across the sky.