The Sea Devil

The Night My Husband Never Came Home

I sat on the couch, thinking about what kind of adventure Daniel was having tonight. Every night, I wait, and hope he’ll come back home safely. I trust Dan with all my heart. I know and feel, deep inside that he’ll come back, but it does not stop me from worrying about that brave man. Especially, the night he never came home. 

On that night, I did the same thing I do every night. I waited, on the couch, listening to the radio, when I heard a small splash sound. Another mullet, perhaps? I wasn't worried, until I heard a booming splash sound even louder than the one earlier! I ran outside in a panic, hoping to see what it was. Unfortunately, I couldn't see anything. It was pitch black.

Once it had gone quiet again, desperately hoping it was just a porpoise or another mullet, I went back inside, but I didn't turn on the radio. I wanted to make sure he was all right. I wanted to hear him come home.

I waited a little longer. There was no sign of any living creature. Not even the call of a sea gull. I was getting more and more concerned by the minute. It was one hour past the time he’s usually home, but he wasn't any where to be seen, or heard. That’s when I heard the last, most frightening sound, a sound as loud as a gunshot!

Instantly, I raced outside trying to see as much as possible, but it was still too dark. I had heard the water splashing around rapidly. Slowly, that sound faded away.

I then saw a dark figure, coming closer and closer. I backed away, hoping it couldn’t see me. Suddenly, it stopped. So did I. Then I heard something completely unexpected. It was crying!

I went inside and quickly got a flashlight, then went back. When I flashed the light, I saw what was crying. It was Daniel! He was in a horrible state. He was drenched from his crimson brown hair, which then looked a very dark red, to his brand new shoes, that seemed fifty years old. His once sharp eyes, filled with confidence, were blood-shot and spilling with tears. His firm and strong hands were covered in red. The bravest man I knew, was trembling before me in a some-what pitiful, yet still somehow understanding way.

I brought him inside and dried him up. I put bandages over his cuts. I waited a day, two days, then five days past. Finally, a week past, and he told me what happened on that dreadful night. The more I heard, the more I cried. I kept crying until there were no more tears left. I the understood, that he changed because of that one incident.

Not long after, he went back to sailing, but never so late at night. He was no longer the strong solitary hunter I knew. He turned into a kind-hearted open man who never looked away at a living being in need of help. That’s what happened on the night my husband never came home.