It’s currently Wednesday evening, meaning two days have past, since the events on the sea. I’ve been doing as the doctors requested of me and resting as best I can, though I feel fine physically, the realisation of my near death experience hit me hard the second I stepped in the door, causing me to almost crush my Mum as I fell into her. So I’ve been isolated up in my room, on orders from her.
University is all remote for me anyways, I just have to tune into a few online lectures a week. They were made aware of my current situation, though all I was doing at the moment was additional summer work, it meant that I didn’t have to submit anything for this week, which was nice.
Studying online allowed me to work from the comforts of my home. And meant I didn’t have to waste money paying for accomodation, but it was lonely, and during these two days of nothingness I was made very aware of this.
I had a few people I knew who were in my class, we were all in a group chat in case anybody had questions about the work, or wanted to rant together about the overpriced school system, and unfair teachers and grades. But none of these people were my ‘friends’, I couldn’t phone them up to have a conversation about my current situation, or see if they wanted to come visit. No, these were just people I knew, not friends in the slightest.
It was on me of course, I’ve never put in any effort in making friends. I’ve always been too awkward.
I think many people found me scary, or in the least unapproachable. With my buzz cut hair, perpetual eye bags and an overall unimpressed looking face, many who caught my eye quickly glanced away, incase I was to pick a fight or something.
I didn’t care, I just wanted to get away from there, them and everything. I really wasn’t a people person. Still not, but we grow up -I guess- to be more social when the occasion calls for it.
I only went to University to be able to get a better job. So I could travel further away from this little village, so I can support Mum when she can’t. It’s not that I don’t like it here, but it is just a little too quaint for my liking, and I want to go out and explore the world, before settling down.
Mum’s parents had passed away before I was born, and my Dad shortly after, leaving us all alone in this world. With only really each other to rely on. I guess that’s why she was a little over protective of me, especially after my adventures this week.
I laid on my bed, gazing at my ceiling light, and a moth that had come in a small gap and had now found a place to perch on the inside of lampshade.
I was starting to go a little stir crazy in my room, only now realising how much I appreciated my early morning boat trips. Wilson had let me off for the rest of the week, deciding to give me the time to rest. And, to begin training up his great niece and nephew, in the family business. They were only 7 and 9 respectively, but I doubt that mattered to Wilson “‘tis in their blood Lad,” he’d said “they’ll pick it up in no time!” he’d said yesterday when coming over to let me know my services weren’t required for the rest of the week, and to drop off some of his wife’s ‘get well soon’ soup- which was incredible.
I sat up and looked around my small room. It was increadibly plain, my mother had opted for a mature colour scheme in my room, even as a child, though she’d redone it recently to match with my current aesthetics.
It had plain cream walls, grey carpets and black curtains. The furniture was in black, including my bedsheets, and consisted of my small single bed tucked up against the far wall, a small wardrobe at the end of my bed, and my desk opposite, looking out the small window, with a thick ledge.
My room had once been less boring. As I was growing up, there had been posters decorating the walls, with pictures of my latest obsession on them, however, after leaving my teenage years I decided to try and live more minimal, with the hope that if my room was tidy, my mental state might reflect that. It worked to a point, but I wish my room had some more character now. Especially after being stuck staring at plain walls for the past two days.
My mother was taking the doctors request very seriously, probably due to being almost crushed previously. I was barely allowed out of my room to pee yesterday. Today she allowed me downstairs to eat, and I’m hoping tomorrow she’ll let me go on a walk. Because I’m certain I’ll squeeze my way out of my window and down the side of the house if not.
It is not just the plainness of my room driving me insane. It’s also my head. The Golden eyes. I see them every time I close my own. The clearest thing I remember from that storm are haunting my mind. I can’t escape them. It feels like they’re constantly staring into my soul.
Perhaps I’m already crazy, was before I even fell in the ocean, there’s no way I could’ve seen a person out there. Let alone seen such bright glowing eyes. Maybe it was a reflection from the storm? No, I must be crazy.
All these thoughts flying around my head, just wouldn’t stop. I knew I needed some closure, even if it was Just a walk on the beach.
I sighed dramatically, after looking out the window and confirming it was already pitch black out. No nighttime coast trips, especially after that freak storm, who knows what could happen. I might be a little crazy, but I wasn’t that far gone yet.
I fwomped down onto my bed again and pulled up the covers, groaning to myself as I realised the light was still on. I made the dreadful two step walk over to my light switch, before Turing off the light and jumping back into bed.
Mum has work tomorrow, so long as she doesn’t take the day off to guard care for me. Hopefully I’d be able to take myself on a little trip to the sea, maybe get some answers, even if it is just confirming that I’m crazy.
I was in luck. I came downstairs this morning to find a note on the kitchen table, in my Mum’s cursive handwriting.
“Hey Theo, couldn’t put off working today, had some big jobs come through. Hope you’re feeling better, Sweetie, Maybe go out in the garden and get some fresh air today, you’re room is starting to smell, Bye ;)”
“Geez thanks Mum” I muttered, rolling my eyes, but made a mental note to air out my room.
At least she was encouraging an outdoor excursion. So I shouldn’t feel too guilty about taking a little longer trip than just out into the garden.
I grabbed myself a quick slice of toast and made up a flask of coffee I could take down with me to the beach. It felt like I would need some time to contemplate things down there, so might as well make myself comfortable.
I took a quick shower after preparing my bag, I wasn’t usually a morning shower person if I hadn’t been out on the boat before. But I’d been rather lax in my hygiene since isolating in my bedroom, so I thought it best to be looking fresh in case I bumped into anyone I knew. In this village, that was very likely.
I dressed in my usual attire, a plain T-Shirt, usually in a primary colour, this time a pale yellow. And an old pair of jeans, so old in fact that they didn’t even have holes in the knees when I bought them, these holes where authentic.
I propped my window open as I left, to let the air into my room during the day, upon returning after my shower, it was hard to miss the musty smell that had been developing over the past few days.
I grabbed my bag and put on my hiking boots, as all the terrain around here required them, especially down to the beach. Incredibly steep, rocky slopes no matter where you approached from.
Locking up the house I turned around and began my trek down to the beach. I wasn’t aiming for where the boats are docked like usual. So it wasn’t as far as I would usually have to walk down to the beach. I was aiming for a rocky outcrop closer to my house. More isolated, away from the occasional local walking their dog or an even rarer lost tourist wondering around.
Despite living so close to the sea. You can’t actually see it from my house. There are woodlands surrounding us, right to the edge of the cliff down to the beach. It’s why you have to be careful, especially along the edge, a stray root could be your downfall, literally.
But I know this place like the back of my hand. I easily navigate my way through the woods, and to the pathway I know will get me down to the area of beach I want to be on. With practised ease I edge, balance and jump my way down the cliff until my feet land on the loud pebbles that cover the area.
I look up and take in a deep breath tasting the salt in the air. It’s an overcast day. Clouds as far as the eye can see, nothing like those that covered the sky during the storm though. And for that I was glad, I’m not sure how I’d react to being in a similar environment to that so soon.
I trundle my way along the beach, watching my footwork as this area tended to have all the smaller pebbles and broken shells around, a misplaced foot could lead to a whole shoe full of them, and that really wasn’t fun.
I eventually reach the little sheltered rocky outcrop I was aiming for.
I think it used to be a deep cave, but where the land has fallen away over the many years, it has made itself quite shallow maybe only 5 metres from the mouth to the back. Sea water never filled the cave, in fact, the tide was fully in at the moment, and it only filled a small pool in the centre of the cave. Occasionally it would spray up into the surrounding flat rocks, that made up most of the cave floor, when a particularly brutal wave came in.
I was certain to not get into distress over here. I’d been coming to this little area for at least 5 years by now, since I first discovered it. It was my thinking place, where I would sometimes sketch or write, even though I wasn’t very good. When the tide was out I’d even risk bringing my laptop down here to try and do some school work, with only the soothing waves to keep me company.
I chucked my bag down next to my usual perch, just inside the edge of the cave. There was a slightly higher rock, next to the cave wall, which allowed me to use it as a sort of seat. When I remembered I’d bring a cushion to allow myself a little extra comfort, but today was obviously not one of those days.
I sat down into my seat, leaning against the wall and stretching my legs out fully, so they reached the edge of the small ledge that circled around the incoming seawater.
I let out a deep breath, looking up at the flat ceiling and then gazing out to admire the overcast clouds, where little breaks had started to appear, allowing rays of sunshine to filter through.
My eyes slipped down to look over the sea, knowing that I should feel a certain fear from it, with the experience I’d had. But I just couldn’t. I’d always found the ocean beautiful, it had so much potential, it could be hiding a plethora of secrets under the waves and we’d have no idea. It could take me away, to the other side of the earth and show me the amazing sights to behold there. Or it could be brutal and sink the unsinkable. So, no. I couldn’t hate it.
I watched the waves hit the rocks and pebbles at the bottom of the beach, not really seeing. My thoughts were too busy. But enjoying the sight none the less.
I must’ve been sitting silently, in a daze for at least 10 minutes before my brain tuned in and my eyes began to focus on what it was I was seeing.
I squinted into the distance. Convinced I’d seen a buoy floating around. Strange. There shouldn’t be any around here, the boats farm at the other end of the beach. Which was what allowed me my quiet respite over here.
I sat up properly and leaned forward, squinting harder. The sun had come out some from behind the clouds and it was beginning to become unbearably bright to look out into that direction.
The buoy, from what I could tell was gone. I shook my head, and raised my hand to shelter my eyes, to double check.
I was certain I’d seen something. I looked again where I’d seen the buoy.
There was nothing.
I started to lower my hand. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it again.
It had moved. Closer this time.
Was it untethered? Just being pushed along by the tide? Now it was closer, I could see it clearer. It didn’t look like a buoy at all. It looked brown in colour, and rugged. Not a brightly coloured ball like a usual buoy was.
I leaned so far off my little perch in order to get a closer look, I slipped off it. It wasn’t tall, maybe only 30cm off the rest of the floor, but it was enough to give me a nice bruise.
I winced and shut my eyes in the pain, giving my poor derrière a rub, to ease the pain.
I glanced up, one eye still scrunched in pain and I saw the buoy again.
I let out a Loud gasp, and scrambled to my feet.
I could see now that it was not a buoy at all, but a head I could see poking out of the water, not 10 metres away from me now.
I grasped at the floor and plunged, feet first, into the little pool in front of me, a one track mind to get to this person floating on the waves, and make sure they’re okay.
It was a steep drop off into the little pool, water going straight up to my thighs, I paid it no mind, as I struggled a few steps through the water.
I again glanced up to check on the location of this person in the water.
But what my eyes met was not an unconscious body, no, what I saw, glaring at me. Face half hidden beneath the waves, was those eyes I’d seen during the storm.
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