The Spirit of the Sea

A Story by ZackOfBridge

A visit to the beach

   Off the Pacific Coast Highway we parked in the dark. The water of the ocean rolled over the sand of the land and we began down a flight of eroding stairs to the beach below. My girlfriend reminded me that we sat on the edge of the country and I sipped a Caprisun to the thought. The waves collected, in the night they took the texture of a dark dolphin, liquid rubber and white capped wire. The Waves were flexing like a split tire down a lane splitter.
     I looked to the sky, a single plane and pitcher of stars beacon in the darkness between the pale of the moon. I looked to find a profound introspection by the stars. I guided sand with my hand, tried to stir thoughts from the ground. Earth couldn’t bring me to a celestial thought process, and then I thought whether the stars meant anything at all. Was there anything profound to the round light in the night? Looking up made my neck sore, so I brought my head down again.
     These girls, my girlfriend and her roommates, spoke analytically of Disney princesses. "Which actors would best suit the role of a live-action John Smith or Prince Charming?" Counting grains of sand in the dark was more appealing than speaking.
     I watched the tide glide over the glistening sand, and slap the rock formations in the shallows. This was a particularly rocky section of beach. On either side of the eroding staircase, higher boulders stacked atop lower boulders. Dark voids slept in the spaces between rock surfaces.
     With the chatter of Disney Princesses and the wash of the common wave, I hoped for something. A hope, I suppose a wish, for something to bring meaning. I said that I was to walk the shore.
     "Why?" but they continued with their Disney concerns.
     Just for, I said but was already too far to beat the decibel of a new splash. Dense blackness toppled the light of their cellphones. With my back to their light, only the moon was right with me. This is when I found the Spirit of the Sea. The Spirit of the sea washed onto the shore by light tide. Delivered to me was the Spirit of the Sea.
     Lying along the shore, with a coat of thin, salty waters rushing over him, was the Spirit of the Sea. I ran to him, mistaking him for the average man, in need of help. My feet pressed into the sand, and my shoes became sponged. My lungs were an exhalation from calling for help.
   Before I could lower to my knee and give the body a slap, a voice like popping sea foam rose into the air. The medium breeze took the voice away and left me to my surprise. With the next wash of sea over the body and my soaked feet, it seemed the voice had never risen at all. But yet, I remember the sound of the words, "Hello there."
   I said hello to the body, and I could see the air lifting the chest. This person was alive. Panic receded from my face and removed the blots in my eyes, I could see what was in front of my eyes. A smiling man, teeth shining with the caressing of the moonlight. His hands placed one over the other on his fluctuating chest.
   "What brings you to this side of the shore?" He said and his hand rose from his chest, open and clenched. He needed me to pull him up. I exasperated as I picked him from the damp sand, but I don't think it offended him.
   I said there was no use talking, rather walk the shore.
   "But don't you know? The sea is talking all the time." He said and swiped at his beard. Particles of beach rained from the wiry chin hairs. "I should know."
   Why was that, I asked, my feet had sunken to the ground. The beach wanted me stuck in established steps.
   "Because, I am the sea. The Spirit of the Sea anyway." He said and pushed his feet away from me. I pulled my own feet from their crevices and followed him.
   You are the Spirit of the Sea? I asked of him and he told me yes. Granted was my hope, my wish. I had asked of the universe, and the universe had drifted it to shore. We walked through the night. He told me of his existence; told me of Noah and the great flood. He despaired over the pollution in his heart caused by man. He lifted with love of all the creatures swimming in his being.
   Our talk led our walk close to a pier. The pier, a dark figure in the night seemed to phantom over the skin of the sea. From the blackness two beaming spears of light pitched The Spirit of the Sea and I into a spotlight. Steps came from the dark, the light was encompassing. The lights led to two policemen, scowling, the moon illuminated pale discontent in their faces.
   They brought the Spirit of the Sea’s hands behind his back. They cuffed him by the wrists. I found a sad irony in an authority suppressing such beauty as the Spirit of the Sea. He did not put up fight nor flight, he only receded and washed in the moment of oppression.
   I felt the crashing waves splashing deep in my chest, a high tide forcing my voice from my throat. I was surprised by the crash, “How could you do this? How could you arrest a pure entity, like the spirit of the sea?"
     "Son, this "Spirit of the Sea" is a homeless man who trades pier-side hand jobs for saltwater taffy.”
   Okay, I said and continued back to the talk of Disney princesses. My hands stashed in my pockets. Under the wash of a wave, taffy wrappers crinkled by the flick of my fingers.

© 2014 ZackOfBridge

Author's Note

I don't even know.

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Marie

THis is something great. I thought that, at the very least, Neptune had been found. THen you brought down to the mundane. Yet the Spirit of the Sea, whatever he was, left charm behind...