Fantasy and Myth

The Calling of the Sea

Even though the sea seems calm this morning, glass smooth under the pearl grey skies of early morning, I never know when it's going to call me. More importantly, I've never understood why.

The waves wash gently across the sands of the beach, barely making a sound while their endless movements are tranquil enough to nearly put me to sleep. A breeze tries to sneak past me, and I can smell the salt in the air. It seems so peaceful, but under it all is the lingering unease I've had for years.

There are nights, thankfully not many, when I go to sleep in my room only to awaken face down upon the beach, drenched in seawater and having no memory of how I got there. I tried locking doors, or even securing myself to the bed with a chain around my ankle. Nothing ever seemed to stop whatever it is happening to me. Fortunately, I live near the beach, so it's never a long journey home.

I've contemplated moving, trying to get far enough away I won't be able to hear the call of the ocean anymore, but its hold on me was greater than I realized, and I couldn't bring myself to do it. Whatever my problem, I wouldn't be able to retreat from it, only face it head on.

The sea has always held an attraction for me in its thunderously powerful waves, the unknown mysteries concealed in its depths, and the freedom of the endless horizon. In my day job I was an accountant of no particular title or importance, so perhaps it was the liberty the sea offered to go anywhere, to be an island in and of myself, where I didn't have to spend hours looking over ledgers filled with fine print. I could enjoy the wind, waves, and sunshine with no concerns except catching a fish for my next meal.

The sun appeared and extended its golden arms of light into the sky as if in a great stretch after a pleasant sleep. It promised to be a warm day.

I was about to leave the beach and head up the trail to my house in order to change before work, but I noticed something glinting in the sand. The sea flowed over the object as the waves arrived and departed, allowing me only glimpses of what it might be. Deciding it was worth a delay, I went to have a closer look. Half buried in the wet sand was a golden disk impressed with the curving lines of a spiral seashell.

When I pulled the disk from the sand, I discovered it had a hole in the top, threaded through with a thin leather strap currently caked with wet sand. I realized it was a medallion, but it felt strangely warm in my hand. It wasn't uncomfortable, quite the contrary, but it did seem to be of a slightly higher temperature than the water or sand.

I checked for a battery compartment when I detected a barely perceptible vibration. I thought the thing might have a motor or something. For what purpose it would be on a medallion, I didn't know, but a motor or power source would've explained the vibration and warmth. I didn't find anything as the medallion seemed to be a solid piece of metal.

Completely baffled by the confusing item, I started toward the house again, but was once again halted, this time by a voice.

"Aren't you going to wear it?" a woman's voice inquired.

I looked around the beach but didn't find anyone, so I directed my search toward the ocean. Submerged from the shoulders down, a woman watched me with an amused smile. Pieces of seaweed were braided into her brown hair, and a scale pattern tattoo emerged from behind her ears to follow the curve of her neck and vanish under the waterline. Drops of seawater glittered like diamonds on her pale skin.

"It's not mine," I told her. "I just now found it."

"It does belong to you," she countered. "You'd remember better if you left it on."

"What do you know about it?" I questioned.

The woman giggled, raising one hand to cover her mouth with the tips of her fingers. Her nails were reflective blue with pinpricks of silvery glitter.

"Forgive me," she apologized. "I shouldn't laugh at one with your condition."

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, losing all but the most tenuous hold on my patience.

"Wear the medallion when you sleep," she instructed. "It will protect you and keep you from having any more gaps in your memory. Then, you'll be able to remember me."

She pushed her hands toward me, shoving herself backwards and toward deeper water.

"Wait!" I called after her. "Who are you? How can I find you again if I have more questions?"

"When your memories return, you'll know," she answered. Her head vanished beneath the water.

I could've sworn I imagined the next part, but I thought I saw a tail fin break the surface of the water for a moment. It couldn't have been a shark because the fin wasn't vertical as a shark's would've been. Even in the early morning light, I could see the tail was a deep shade of green, unlike any I'd seen before.

I went home, glancing occasionally over my shoulder, but the woman didn't appear again. My thumb absently brushed over the spiral impressions of the medallion, wondering what it all meant and what the woman knew about it and me. Deciding to find out, I put on the medallion and waited for the time when the sea would call to me again.