It’s so bright that I squint when I open my eyes. The sun is unrelenting as it reflects off the cerulean blue of the water. As a wave crests, seafoam slowly encroaches on my bare feet. It almost touches my toes but not quite. The white frothy bubbles dissipate into the air and sink into the rich brown of the wet sand. The sea pulls back, preparing its next wave to crash down and rush towards me. It’s a steady heartbeat, a steady lull hypnotizing me as the water rushes in and out, in and out, in a perpetual dance.

The ocean breeze caresses my skin and helps dampen the heat of the sun. Light gusts flow through the thin material of the cornflower blue dress I wear. I can’t quite recall purchasing it, but it fits well. The cut of the dress emphasizes my full breasts with an empire waist that dreamily flows down around my wide hips. As the sea readies for its next wave, the breeze catches the gauzy material and flings it out to sea. I’m certain it looks very picturesque billowing around me.

I look around and notice beach goers enjoying the spectacular summer day. Some walk along the powdery sand hand in hand. Small children run from the waves, laughing as they try to outrun the seafoam. Hair drips and clings, people emerge from the sea. Heads floating on the water bob up and down in synch with the waves. Piles of fabric and abandoned shoes dot the sand.

Creeping verbena and pampas grass grow along the edge of the sand in clusters marking the end of the beach. Past the foliage light sandstone stairs begin to creep heavenward. I follow their trajectory, seeing intricately laid stone paths lined with red roofed buildings. The town is terraced up the steep hillside. I am overwhelmed by a sense of familiarity. Have I been here before?

My eyes comb over the town, searching for that source of familiarity. The tan buildings host an array of colorful doors—teal, red, orange—a hidden rainbow of colors welcoming visitors. Small clusters of people gather in front of certain buildings. Some walk along the meandering paths. A few lean on railings…

A caress of memory hits me. Large, corded hands gripping a rail. Blonde hair fluttering in a breeze. Eyes of ice pier…

Something bumps into my leg and I look down to see a nest of tangled wet hair quickly rush past me. The child doesn’t look up as she mumbles something and dashes away. She retreats to her mother’s outstretched arms. The woman scoops the girl up into her embrace and looks up at me. She slowly raises a hand, offering a placating smile as if to apologize for their child’s inattentiveness. I smile back and subtly nod my head, confirming all is forgiven.

I feel unsettled. There was something unusual about the girl. Between the uncanny valley feeling and the memories that are being stirred to the surface, I am feeling ill. A knot rests in my stomach, roiling deep inside and putting me on edge. I try to get another look at the girl without outright staring at her and her mother. Perhaps she was wearing something unexpected? Or did she have some sort of prominent facial feature? No matter how hard I try I can’t voice what was wrong with her.

I take a deep breath and try to settle that discomfort, mentally assuring myself that I am safe, that all is well. Those comforting thoughts are tinted with delusion I am aware of, but don’t want to acknowledge.

I dismiss all thoughts about the girl. It's been so long since I felt the ocean that I just want focus on being here. I don’t know the next opportunity I will have to visit the sea. Living thousands of miles away from definitely makes me miss it.

I step onto the wet sand and feel my feet sink a little, leaving a footprint.  The first rush of the water around my toes feels refreshing, so I venture deeper. The next wave reaches my ankles. My feet sink in more as the sand is pulled from below my feet with each subsequent wave. I watch as the next crest hits, then the next, and the next. Each time the wave reaches me I bask in the feeling. I sink more and more, sand covering the tops of my feet now. I am content deep down, having dismissed the uncanny foreboding of moments before in lieu of the peace of this place. I am overcome by the presence of this moment.

I look to my right to see that someone has joined me. A few feet away a man stands tall, staring out to the ocean. He is enthralled by the waves and seems lost in his thoughts, not noting my presence. His hair is the color of golden wheat and it lightly bounces in the breeze. The humidity tightens the curls so much they almost form ringlets. I smile to myself, wondering what my hair must be doing in this humidity.

I trace his profile; he is probably a half foot taller than me with a strong straight nose and sharp jawline. He stands upright, a tension leaking from his well-formed muscles. His adams apple bobs in his throat as he clenches his jaw, a vein popping slightly. It’s as if he can’t run from something that is bothering him. I narrow my eyes, hoping that will help me unravel what I am seeing. He looks like he wants to relax, but his body is unable to let whatever is niggling at him go.  

The man exudes virility but is also unexpectedly soft. His features could be gentle if he were not so tense. Everything is sculpted to perfection but without being harsh and sharp. His lips press together, forming a tight line. I realize how thin they are. My eyes trace those lips, grace a long slender neck, and flow up to elegantly pointed ears.

Pointed ears? I focus with the intent to confirm I am seeing correctly, but no matter how much I focus they remain the same.

My mind whirls as I whip my head around to find the girl who had bumped into me earlier. She is sitting on her mother’s lap, nestled against her chest. Her damp hair parts around her ears—her pointed ears. Not as pointed as the mans, but definitely not round. I glance at the mother. She too has ears that taper into an elegant point. I understand now what felt so off about her.

I reach up with my hand to feel my own ear, wondering if mine have somehow transformed. They are still rounded. I look around quickly, sifting through the dispersed people. All of them have some form of point to their ears. Some are very elongated, exuding grace. Some are stubby and end abruptly, giving a spikey appearance. Some have a very subtle curve and could almost be mistaken for rounded ears like mine.

I feel confounded. People don’t have pointed ears. That’s not a thing. Pointed ears show up in movies and fantasy books, not in real life. Where am I?

I turn back to the man. He is looking at me with confusion, his thin lips pursed as he tilts his head slightly. He narrows his eyes—his icy. blue. eyes…

My head bursts with pain as I remember standing against a railing over a town with sandstone buildings and red roofs. I remember fear as I crawled backwards from a crowd to escape an unbearable ringing in my ears. I remember the blond hair and blue eyes that pierced through me. The eyes that have lingered like a phantom in the back of my mind. His eyes. Those eyes.

I bend over, limiting my overwhelmed senses in a desperate attempt to alleviate the pain. I reach my hands to massage my temples. It hurts, it hurts so much… I gulp down a breath. I can’t let this pain stop me. I can’t let whatever this is win.

I painfully stand up straight and turn my head again to face him. His brows are narrowed, a wrinkle between his eyebrows. His thin lips twitch—the start of a snarl? Is he angry at me? What did I do?

I blink twice to clear my thoughts but he remains standing there, fixated on me, fury growing deeper every second. Then, one corner of his lips pulls up into a vicious smirk—mocking, antagonizing, vengeful. I open my eyes wide and begin to take a step back, then another. Whatever this man thinks I have done, I don’t want to provoke him more. His smile, that look of promised gleeful violence, that look dripping with savored venom and animosity, makes my blood run cold.

He begins to step forward. My instincts take over all rational thought. I need to get away. I need to run. This man is danger… This place is danger…

I take another step but my foot lands on the gauzy material of my dress and it slips easily along the sand. I stumble backwards, falling. This is bad. I reach behind me and feel the cool water hit my hand. I feel the splash, drops hitting my arms. I feel my stomach drop as I fall. Then…

Nothing. Darkness.

Once more, I am no longer.