I bask in the specks of scattered sunlight peering out from passing clouds. No sunglasses. Only a floral two piece swimsuit for protection, and a floaty keeping me afloat. I forget about my worries or cares, and that's my first mistake.
In seconds, I'm at the bottom of the lake, my body melted away and dissolved into mere water content. This often happens when I am at the peak of relaxation. Parts of myself sift through the lake's sediments. Further away, some bit of myself browses through the coarse exterior of coral to my right. I gather, motioning myself upward while one of my hands reconstruct. Bit by bit, the rest of my body arrives, and I propel myself through the surface. With how often this happens, I'd hope to grow accustomed to these circumstances. This is the result of being born into the Egret island.
We live on a small, hidden island near the coast of Busan. Fishing is an avocation for some, but to us, it's our livelihood. On maps, historians marked our island as 'Red Bay'. Thank God we're blessed with the amaranth clams it hints at. Egret island sits atop a bed of the rare bivalves. They're our life source and income. In a way, we thank the name our country has given our island. Many assume our island as nothing more than a breeding ground for Egrets. The name South Korea bestowed to us may be due to our vigorous fishing methods. We're happy that's all they know.
My wet hair drips in all directions while I pin it up. I head to the shallow end of the lake until I reach the coarse sand.
"For goodness sake, Ji-ri. I saw you."
I spot old black sandals I've seen since the day I was born. They pace onto the sand, pebbles making their imprints underneath. A stressed face and a pinned back raven bun still come second to my Aunt's vibrant polka dot dress.
"You have to stop being too at home with the water! Lord knows if we'll ever see you again."
"I know, I know," I say, making the world's most soaked ponytail. I can't wait until it dries off.
My Aunt sighs, taking her worn sandals off one by one, smoothing out the bottoms. They're falling apart, but she refuses to get rid of them.
"Ji-ri, I'm not exaggerating when I say we've never seen a Sea Link like yours. We worry for our Thirst Child."
"I understand, Aunt Han. But I come back every time. Plus, it's super hot today-"
"Enough! Get more amaranth clams, ha? Those sellers are coming within minutes to inspect the haul. We need the money."
I hear Aunt Han going on and on, and I'm in no mood for nagging. I'm irritated that my sunbathing did not last long. I bend down to the shore, drenching my hands in saltwater. I hear a faint 'you'd better not', but tune it out, having the image of the amaranth clams in my mind. In my soul, I begin to beg. I want to see you. I repeat this statement in my soul over and over. A smile warms my face when I hear pounds and pounds of clams stacking atop each other. I open my eyes to the sight of the bivalve pyramid.
When I turn around, a stinging pain radiates throughout my left cheek. Feeling Aunt Han's lingering slap, it does not surprise me at all.
"Did you not hear me say that the sellers are coming? They know nothing of who we are, and you're going to throw our secrets away?"
I'm staring at the lightweight waves rushing past our legs, too angered to look up. My arm points behind me.
"The amaranths you requested?"
I walk past Aunt Han, placing a hard hand on my cheek and rubbing off the pain with one harsh gesture.
A few yards away, in the ocean lies a large meteorite. Our people think of it as Egret island's centerpiece. Since it arrived centuries ago, the meteorite altered the water we drink. It must've purified our bodies, because we can go without water for weeks. Our ancestors traveled from place to place, without a worry. Needless to say they panicked when they happened upon a desert without water. Three days are the longest a human can go without water, so they expected death by then. They grew shocked their blood still flowed nine days later. They finally made it out of the desert in twelve days, baffled. For some reason, the memory of Egret's refreshing water coursed through their minds. That's when our ancestors decided to set up shop in what became Egret island.
I walk past the lake, darkening into faded shades of turquoise. Sea plankton fill the waves crashing against pointed rocks on the shore. They make the water glisten, like a sea of stars. I look with gratitude at the pristine lake, for what it's done for Egret island.
Through the decades, my people discovered more and more effects the water gave them. Our people can breathe underwater for ten minutes. The water dyed our eyes a mix of turquoise and gray. The later ancestors were born with hair like black waterfalls. Our skin knew nothing of acne or blemishes. We have some shocking qualities. Our connection to marine life, and appearing invisible underwater. The one we want no one to know of; our bodies are eighty-one percent water. Some of our ancestors went for a check-up, and shocked the doctors. They escaped before they could become the latest research. The one we can't allow anyone to know of; my body is eighty-nine percent water. I am the result of a trump card tactic. I'm the living last resort. The Thirst Child.
I look to the dark, warm blue sky. Many of my neighbors' splashing feet exit the waters. Moss green buckets almost full to the brim with amaranth clams. Every day, they work so hard, expecting no praise for what's expected. They wave to me with smiles, warm with gratitude. I ponder if it's because I save them time by hunting stacks of amaranths by luring them with a plead in my heart. More and more household interiors illuminate down the path. They are like runway edge lights, except the path is to my house. The work for the day finishes, and we've had a bountiful haul. It gets much better the more summer creeps in.
For the past two decades, more and more cyan-gram clams drift in. A rare version of the amaranths we hunt on the daily. Their holographic shells caught the eyes of every socialite and big wig in Asia. Thus, the cyan-gram clams blew our cover, and our goldmine land became the target of desire. As expected, offers began to pour in to buy our land, but our amazing leader refuses them. My parents and their friends chose to look to the future. They knew as time went on, more offers would pour in. Our leader would die, and there would be no more refusal. Our leader's only living relative and great-grandson, Seung-won, admires money. We knew they could buy him hook, line and sinker. This was a code red.
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