mathmission
07-25-2006, 02:06 PM
Thought that I would post a short story I wrote the other day...
UNDERTOW:
by Mathmission
Undertow
--------
Part 1
There were four of us standing on the beach, looking out across what I had earlier called an unforgiving sea. The sand, a pale mixture of sandstone, and shells lapped back and forth against the shoreline with metronomic beat. A cooler breeze blew across the water and into our faces, causing us to squint. The light off the water reflected into our skin, giving us a bright glow in the midday sun. And there we stood, watching the water take inches away from the shore, and replace them moments later with new grains of sand.
There was Matthew. He was shorter than most of us, and wore a heavy brown jacket. He had zipped it up most of the way, exposing a sweater underneath. His hands were buried in his pockets, an attribute which could almost always be relied upon. His hair was dark and course. Small bits of fog emerged from his mouth, clashing with the cool salty air.
Charles stood next to him. He was the older brother of Matthew. His glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose, which almost stuck to his skin from the cold. The glass fogged, making his eyes a haze. His hair was dark like his brother’s. He was the oldest, and at times, the quietest. This particular morning he had barely said a word. His birthday was in three days; he hadn’t mentioned it once. He was just that kind of man.
Closest to me was Ross. He was the shortest of the group, and possibly the most outspoken. Despite this fact, he too was quiet, and watched the waves smack the shore. He wore a leather jacket, open, and jeans. His hair was short, sharp, and brown. His arms dangled down his sides. He listened for any sounds unearthly from the sea.
And there was me. I had taken off my shoes. Perhaps the cold had frozen my toes, or maybe the icy wind, and water, but I could feel nothing below me. The grains filled the spaces between my toes, and though I looked down, and could see them, I felt nothing. Even the wind that blew against my face brought me no discomfort. My face was blue, or at least it should have been.
But that’s how we all felt: cold without feeling; blue, or at least should have been.
---------
Part 2
A year ago, the four of us had visited this very same spot. And just as it was now, it was the same a year ago: cold, and windy. But it certainly wasn’t silent. And we certainly could feel things much better than today.
“So what are we doing tonight,” said Ross.
“Well, we have options,” replied Charles. He tended to be the one who made decisions in our group. At least when we were here. He knew the area much better than any of us, and could get us anywhere we needed to be. Charles’ frequent trips to this area had left him with a vast knowledge of the area: places to visit, eat, and drink. Though we had this resource at our fingertips, it still took us nearly 30 minutes to come to any sort of agreement.
“We could go downtown,” he continued. “Or we could start heading back, and hit up some place on the way.”
Matthew, Ross and I didn’t care what the plan was so much as one was made. We stood, and watched Charles for any sort of decision.
“Jesus, would one of you pick!” he said.
“Let’s just head back,” I said. We were all thinking the same thing, but rarely did anyone just say it.
“That’s fine with me,” said Matthew.
“Yep,” echoed Ross.
And that’s when we heard it: the faint sound of a voice.
At first, we each of us didn’t respond. Perhaps it had been the wind; at least, that’s what I had thought.
“So, you want to leave,” I suggested.
And then, again the voice came, quiet like a whisper caught on a breeze. My brow pressed down, as my brain tried to comprehend what I was hearing. And Matthew, too, was thinking the same thing. He looked at me, and wondered if I too had heard the cry. Charles and Ross had also heard the sound, and joined our back and forth gaze of inquiry. And for a moment, we were silent, listening to the sounds of the ocean. I leaned forward against a rope fence, and looked to the ground. I listened for any hint of a voice hidden within the ice water.
And then, again, a call for help. Our four heads shot up like merekats spotting an approaching lioness. The voice, a man, came from the sea, nearly 200 yards out. He slapped at the water, forcing himself to stay afloat. He could no longer feel the ice water freezing his skin. He had lost feeling long ago, and was forcing every muscle in his body to stay in motion. He was tired, and losing his strength.
“Do you see that?” asked Charles.
“Is that a guy out there?” asked Ross.
“Holy Hell,” said Matthew, as he began to dig through his pockets, searching for his cell phone. Strangely enough, it had not been in any of the pockets he usually had his hand buried in. He pulled his hands out of his pockets so fast that the lining of his jacket stuck out, giving his jacket small wings.
Ross threw off his jacket and jumped over the small rope fence. I followed, but caught my foot on the rope. I fell hard onto the sand below, face first into the sand. My eyes pressed shut, the feeling of sandpaper scraping my eyes paralyzed me. My hands came to my face, and gently rubbed the sand away. In my moments of darkness, I could hear Matthew on the phone, calling for an emergency unit. Charles was calling to Ross, who had already jumped into the ice water.
I opened my eyes, and flooded them with light. Looking around, I saw Matthew above me, pacing back and forth, a small phone in his hand. Charles had his hand over his eyes, sheltering them from the light above, and helping him to focus on Ross, who was swimming through the waves towards the man stranded.
I stood, and looked out. Ross was still nearly 100 yards away when his head dipped below a wave. And for a moment, the three of us, Matthew, Charles and myself, were silent. The only sounds were that of the man crying for help, and the cold water pushing pebbles of sand back and forth.
I pulled off my shoes, and ran towards the shore. Behind me, Matthew yelled.
“They said to wait!”
I didn’t respond, and dove into the water. And instantly, all points of my body were on needles. Every inch ached and stung as the ice water covered my body. Already, I could feel my muscles tightening. I sucked in breath after breath as I paddled through the oncoming waves. The saltwater blurred my vision, and burned in the back of my throat. Ahead of me, I saw that Ross had reached the man, and was treading water until I would arrive.
Again, under the thundering sound of the water, I could hear Charles yell: Come back. They’re coming to get you.
But I pressed on. Ross ahead of me started to swim toward me, the man in hand. Ross was turning blue, just like the water. The man he was hold was pale, and no longer moved. His strength had worn him down, and he now slipped further and further away from the icy water, into a warmer state of numbness. The light began to fade, and he fell asleep, limp in Ross’ arms.
I reached Ross and took some of the weight off of him. Together, we carried the man towards the shore. We both looked forward; the shore was nearly 200 yards away now. We were being pulled out, the man in tow.
And both Ross and I felt it in our legs and in our arms. The icy sting starting to fade, replaced by the numb feeling of muscles failing. The cold water was slowing our movements, and pulling us against our will. We both kicked, and splashed as much as we could, pushing ourselves towards the shore. My vision was blurred, and dark. The salt burned my skin, my throat, and my eyes.
Ross was already numb. He flapped what he could, but was making little progress. He took in deep breaths, and reached forward as he swam. The man we held up was motionless. In all truth, we both were sure he was dead.
And then, we were pushed forward from behind. The sea was aiding us, inching us forward again. Waves from a ship had made their way to shore, and were now pushing our small bodies forward. And it was a good thing too: our strength had given out.
Again, we were pushed forward. Ross, the man and I were lifted high into the air, and dropped back down as the wave passed us by. We were now only 50 yards from the shoreline. My lungs refused to fill with air as I took deep breaths. Ross, who was now almost as motionless as the man he carried, bobbed up and down. His fingers were still, and only his arms moved in efforts to keep him afloat. I felt it too, the loss of control, the loss of feeling, and the creeping warm that inched its way up my legs and arms.
And then, another wave carried us high into the air. And I felt my grip let go of the man Ross and I had been so strongly gripping. And as I fell back down with the wave, I felt a tug. It was a tug I had not yet felt. It was a ghostly feeling; a specter in the water pulling me down. It was the undertow, pulling my body down. And when I reached the bottom, I felt something hit my head. In an instant, the icy water disappeared, and I was no longer cold.
Above, another wave crashed down, and the other two bodies were pulled down to me. Ross hit the sandy bottom, and caught a rock. It sliced his arm, and seared his skin. He screamed in the water, the bubbles rising from his mouth. His arm was trapped, and burning with pain. And I just stared at him, almost smiling.
The man we had come to rescue was floating above us, face down in the sea.
Ross looked upwards, at his rising bubbles, and swatted at them with his hands. And before he could look back, the light faded, and his breath reached the surface.
UNDERTOW:
by Mathmission
Undertow
--------
Part 1
There were four of us standing on the beach, looking out across what I had earlier called an unforgiving sea. The sand, a pale mixture of sandstone, and shells lapped back and forth against the shoreline with metronomic beat. A cooler breeze blew across the water and into our faces, causing us to squint. The light off the water reflected into our skin, giving us a bright glow in the midday sun. And there we stood, watching the water take inches away from the shore, and replace them moments later with new grains of sand.
There was Matthew. He was shorter than most of us, and wore a heavy brown jacket. He had zipped it up most of the way, exposing a sweater underneath. His hands were buried in his pockets, an attribute which could almost always be relied upon. His hair was dark and course. Small bits of fog emerged from his mouth, clashing with the cool salty air.
Charles stood next to him. He was the older brother of Matthew. His glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose, which almost stuck to his skin from the cold. The glass fogged, making his eyes a haze. His hair was dark like his brother’s. He was the oldest, and at times, the quietest. This particular morning he had barely said a word. His birthday was in three days; he hadn’t mentioned it once. He was just that kind of man.
Closest to me was Ross. He was the shortest of the group, and possibly the most outspoken. Despite this fact, he too was quiet, and watched the waves smack the shore. He wore a leather jacket, open, and jeans. His hair was short, sharp, and brown. His arms dangled down his sides. He listened for any sounds unearthly from the sea.
And there was me. I had taken off my shoes. Perhaps the cold had frozen my toes, or maybe the icy wind, and water, but I could feel nothing below me. The grains filled the spaces between my toes, and though I looked down, and could see them, I felt nothing. Even the wind that blew against my face brought me no discomfort. My face was blue, or at least it should have been.
But that’s how we all felt: cold without feeling; blue, or at least should have been.
---------
Part 2
A year ago, the four of us had visited this very same spot. And just as it was now, it was the same a year ago: cold, and windy. But it certainly wasn’t silent. And we certainly could feel things much better than today.
“So what are we doing tonight,” said Ross.
“Well, we have options,” replied Charles. He tended to be the one who made decisions in our group. At least when we were here. He knew the area much better than any of us, and could get us anywhere we needed to be. Charles’ frequent trips to this area had left him with a vast knowledge of the area: places to visit, eat, and drink. Though we had this resource at our fingertips, it still took us nearly 30 minutes to come to any sort of agreement.
“We could go downtown,” he continued. “Or we could start heading back, and hit up some place on the way.”
Matthew, Ross and I didn’t care what the plan was so much as one was made. We stood, and watched Charles for any sort of decision.
“Jesus, would one of you pick!” he said.
“Let’s just head back,” I said. We were all thinking the same thing, but rarely did anyone just say it.
“That’s fine with me,” said Matthew.
“Yep,” echoed Ross.
And that’s when we heard it: the faint sound of a voice.
At first, we each of us didn’t respond. Perhaps it had been the wind; at least, that’s what I had thought.
“So, you want to leave,” I suggested.
And then, again the voice came, quiet like a whisper caught on a breeze. My brow pressed down, as my brain tried to comprehend what I was hearing. And Matthew, too, was thinking the same thing. He looked at me, and wondered if I too had heard the cry. Charles and Ross had also heard the sound, and joined our back and forth gaze of inquiry. And for a moment, we were silent, listening to the sounds of the ocean. I leaned forward against a rope fence, and looked to the ground. I listened for any hint of a voice hidden within the ice water.
And then, again, a call for help. Our four heads shot up like merekats spotting an approaching lioness. The voice, a man, came from the sea, nearly 200 yards out. He slapped at the water, forcing himself to stay afloat. He could no longer feel the ice water freezing his skin. He had lost feeling long ago, and was forcing every muscle in his body to stay in motion. He was tired, and losing his strength.
“Do you see that?” asked Charles.
“Is that a guy out there?” asked Ross.
“Holy Hell,” said Matthew, as he began to dig through his pockets, searching for his cell phone. Strangely enough, it had not been in any of the pockets he usually had his hand buried in. He pulled his hands out of his pockets so fast that the lining of his jacket stuck out, giving his jacket small wings.
Ross threw off his jacket and jumped over the small rope fence. I followed, but caught my foot on the rope. I fell hard onto the sand below, face first into the sand. My eyes pressed shut, the feeling of sandpaper scraping my eyes paralyzed me. My hands came to my face, and gently rubbed the sand away. In my moments of darkness, I could hear Matthew on the phone, calling for an emergency unit. Charles was calling to Ross, who had already jumped into the ice water.
I opened my eyes, and flooded them with light. Looking around, I saw Matthew above me, pacing back and forth, a small phone in his hand. Charles had his hand over his eyes, sheltering them from the light above, and helping him to focus on Ross, who was swimming through the waves towards the man stranded.
I stood, and looked out. Ross was still nearly 100 yards away when his head dipped below a wave. And for a moment, the three of us, Matthew, Charles and myself, were silent. The only sounds were that of the man crying for help, and the cold water pushing pebbles of sand back and forth.
I pulled off my shoes, and ran towards the shore. Behind me, Matthew yelled.
“They said to wait!”
I didn’t respond, and dove into the water. And instantly, all points of my body were on needles. Every inch ached and stung as the ice water covered my body. Already, I could feel my muscles tightening. I sucked in breath after breath as I paddled through the oncoming waves. The saltwater blurred my vision, and burned in the back of my throat. Ahead of me, I saw that Ross had reached the man, and was treading water until I would arrive.
Again, under the thundering sound of the water, I could hear Charles yell: Come back. They’re coming to get you.
But I pressed on. Ross ahead of me started to swim toward me, the man in hand. Ross was turning blue, just like the water. The man he was hold was pale, and no longer moved. His strength had worn him down, and he now slipped further and further away from the icy water, into a warmer state of numbness. The light began to fade, and he fell asleep, limp in Ross’ arms.
I reached Ross and took some of the weight off of him. Together, we carried the man towards the shore. We both looked forward; the shore was nearly 200 yards away now. We were being pulled out, the man in tow.
And both Ross and I felt it in our legs and in our arms. The icy sting starting to fade, replaced by the numb feeling of muscles failing. The cold water was slowing our movements, and pulling us against our will. We both kicked, and splashed as much as we could, pushing ourselves towards the shore. My vision was blurred, and dark. The salt burned my skin, my throat, and my eyes.
Ross was already numb. He flapped what he could, but was making little progress. He took in deep breaths, and reached forward as he swam. The man we held up was motionless. In all truth, we both were sure he was dead.
And then, we were pushed forward from behind. The sea was aiding us, inching us forward again. Waves from a ship had made their way to shore, and were now pushing our small bodies forward. And it was a good thing too: our strength had given out.
Again, we were pushed forward. Ross, the man and I were lifted high into the air, and dropped back down as the wave passed us by. We were now only 50 yards from the shoreline. My lungs refused to fill with air as I took deep breaths. Ross, who was now almost as motionless as the man he carried, bobbed up and down. His fingers were still, and only his arms moved in efforts to keep him afloat. I felt it too, the loss of control, the loss of feeling, and the creeping warm that inched its way up my legs and arms.
And then, another wave carried us high into the air. And I felt my grip let go of the man Ross and I had been so strongly gripping. And as I fell back down with the wave, I felt a tug. It was a tug I had not yet felt. It was a ghostly feeling; a specter in the water pulling me down. It was the undertow, pulling my body down. And when I reached the bottom, I felt something hit my head. In an instant, the icy water disappeared, and I was no longer cold.
Above, another wave crashed down, and the other two bodies were pulled down to me. Ross hit the sandy bottom, and caught a rock. It sliced his arm, and seared his skin. He screamed in the water, the bubbles rising from his mouth. His arm was trapped, and burning with pain. And I just stared at him, almost smiling.
The man we had come to rescue was floating above us, face down in the sea.
Ross looked upwards, at his rising bubbles, and swatted at them with his hands. And before he could look back, the light faded, and his breath reached the surface.