Every night she stood out on the shore, sand creeping between her toes,
gently tickling her feet. The wind whipped strands of sandy hair gently
around her face. Her eyes, blue like the waves, longed for the water to
splash against them. Her legs could already feel the power and satisfaction
of kicking metrically through the flow. Gazing over the water - it
shimmered at her, the moonlight turning into leaves of silver as it touched
the dark surface of the waves. At night the water was a whole different
colour, a deep indigo, mysterious and intoxicating. On a quick glance it
was often mistaken for black. Slipping off her dress, the wind crept slowly
up her pale back. Hurriedly she ran forward. Diving in, she wasted little
time getting started. Effortlessly she began to glide along in silence.
The feeling of calm, smooth water lapping gently against bare skin was heavenly. It was such a relief to finally be able to let go. Picking up a steady rhythm she began her solitary journey across the waves. Each time her head surfaced from the water, she took in a gulp of the fresh icy air. She cut through the silky ocean as though she were a knife. The waves moved like the beat of a drum, lifting her up and down in time to the seas own music. She danced gracefully within it. She savoured moments like this, when time was her own. She didn't know where she was going; she let the water take her where it wanted to.
It was dangerous; she realised that. The tides were strong and could pull her as easily out as they pulled her in. She could be beyond the safety of the shore within minuets. But there was something about the ocean that she trusted. It felt as loyal as an old friend. Perhaps she had some past link to it, or perhaps she was just being immature. She was always a good swimmer but it was nothing special to her until now. Pools were crowed and noisy, people got in your way. The lycra of the swimming costume clung tightly to you, always grasping at your body. The water itself tasted bitter. It was so pumped with chemicals that it stung her eyes and nose every time she went. But moving out here opened a whole new world to her. Striping off every last stitch of clothing to dive into the vast open water lead to a whole new emotion. The ability to cut herself off from the world so easily was intoxicating. She simply couldn't get enough of it.
In the water she thought about her past. All her memories suddenly came flooding back to her. Memories of pushing her pillow over her head until her ears were sore and red - just to block out her parents shrill shouts. Asking her mother why she had been crying, only to be ushered off to the nanny. Being told over a million times not to ask questions. Walking into the kitchen at one in the morning to get a snack, and finding her father alone with a glass of their finest wine. Walking home from privet school with three girls she didn't know screaming abuse to her because she lived in a big house and had an expensive car. Feeling the harsh sting across her left cheek, from the slap her best friend gave her, when she found out she had stolen her boyfriend. Wincing at the taste of her first drink and never realising how many she would later consume. Holding her crying sister after she walked in on their father with another woman. Dipping her head in the water made her feel better. As though she was cleansing away all her bad memories, getting rid of her ghosts. Her pain drifted out of her mind and into the waves, who would take it a million miles away from her.
She tiptoed back into the bedroom as quietly as the old wooden floors would allow. She left her sandy clothes on the chair in the corner that was too stiff to sit in for more than three minuets. Ben lay asleep in their bed. The window on the ceiling allowed the moonlight to light up his face. His black hair was scruffy from a few hours sleep. His lovely soft lips were positioned in a permanent smile. Staring at him she noticed, for the first time, a solitary scar along each of his strong arms. Lifting up the crisp white sheets, she slipped in beside him.
Jenna winced as the phone rudely woke her. Ben was already sitting up and reading.
"What time is it?" She croaked. He looked over at her, smiling. He had the sweetest smile she had ever seen.
"Eleven Thirty," he spoke softly, bending to kiss her forehead. The phone continued to scream to them like a teething baby. Jenna frowned and picked up the green sixties receiver.
"Hello?" she moaned.
"Aren't you up yet?" It was her younger sister, Sarah.
"Of course I'm up" she lied.
"No you are not! I can hear it in your voice. We shared rooms for thirteen years, I no you, you big slob." On the other end of the telephone, there was a curious slurping noise mixed in with the sounds of traffic, in the background of her sister's chirpy voice.
"What did you ring for? Apart from to nag me."
"Well" her sister cut off mid sentence to let out a light giggle. "Sorry, I have James here with me."
She pronounced 'James' in a mocking tone. He was no doubt another of her meaningless flings. Jenna could already picture them. 'James' in nothing but jeans, with his arms around her sister's waist and his mouth nibbling gently on her neck. Sarah just in jeans and a white bra, with her blonde curly hair pulled loosely back from her face. There would probably be two glasses of champagne on her glass table and the patio doors would be open, letting the sounds of traffic into their stylish London apartment.
"How are you and Ben, by the way?" she inquired.
"We're fine," there was no point into talking about relationships with her sister. Not while both there men were right by their sides anyhow.
"I just rang to see how you were. To see when you're coming home."
Jenna sighed. "Sarah, I am home,"
"Jen-Jen I thought we'd been through all this! Moving to that dreadfully boring little village was only temporary. Daddy only wanted you to clear your head, none of us expected you to stay for more than a month."
"Is she insulting this place again?" smiled Ben. I smiled back and turned away.
"Listen, I don't know what it is but I like this place. I've grown attached."
"But you used to hate it!" Screeched Sarah while lighting a cigarette "I mean who couldn't, all that . silence."
"It grows on you." Sarah was too young to understand. She enjoyed living the high life. She was all fashion and flings and parties. Jenna just wanted to settle down. Live somewhere she could think, be with someone that accepted her for who she was. At first all the regularity and miniature size of the place drove her wild. Now she loved it. It was safe.
"But your stuck in such a small cottage! Daddy could have easily got you something much nicer," her sister protested.
Jenna sighed. She wouldn't try to explain that the cottage was the largest in the village and the location was amazing - right by the sea. Although it was true, her father would build her a mansion on the shore if she wanted it badly enough.
"Maybe I should come and visit you - find out what's making you stay." Jenna knew it was an empty threat. Her sister would never leave London unless it was to visit somewhere like Paris or Rome. Cornwall certainly wasn't for her.
Ben's hand slid under the covers and along Jenna's back. It reached her bum and made its way back up. It was his way of hinting that he wanted to stop the conversation.
Ben had magic hands. They felt so good against your skin that he could make you do almost anything with a simple touch. He used to be a masseuse but now he was a painter, although he did massage villagers occasionally for extra cash.
"Sarah honey I have to go," His hands curled around her stomach.
"Ok, ill let you get back to Ben." Both sisters hung up the phone simultaneously.
Jenna turned around to face him. They smiled at each other like a couple of goof's. Ben curled up to her so his face was inches from hers. He had just brushed his teeth; his breath was sweet and fresh. He lent into her and let his lips lay on hers. She let him coax open her mouth with little resistance and slowly melted away into him. Yes, she defiantly wasn't going back. Why go back to her nightmares while she was right in the middle of her dreams?
The feeling of calm, smooth water lapping gently against bare skin was heavenly. It was such a relief to finally be able to let go. Picking up a steady rhythm she began her solitary journey across the waves. Each time her head surfaced from the water, she took in a gulp of the fresh icy air. She cut through the silky ocean as though she were a knife. The waves moved like the beat of a drum, lifting her up and down in time to the seas own music. She danced gracefully within it. She savoured moments like this, when time was her own. She didn't know where she was going; she let the water take her where it wanted to.
It was dangerous; she realised that. The tides were strong and could pull her as easily out as they pulled her in. She could be beyond the safety of the shore within minuets. But there was something about the ocean that she trusted. It felt as loyal as an old friend. Perhaps she had some past link to it, or perhaps she was just being immature. She was always a good swimmer but it was nothing special to her until now. Pools were crowed and noisy, people got in your way. The lycra of the swimming costume clung tightly to you, always grasping at your body. The water itself tasted bitter. It was so pumped with chemicals that it stung her eyes and nose every time she went. But moving out here opened a whole new world to her. Striping off every last stitch of clothing to dive into the vast open water lead to a whole new emotion. The ability to cut herself off from the world so easily was intoxicating. She simply couldn't get enough of it.
In the water she thought about her past. All her memories suddenly came flooding back to her. Memories of pushing her pillow over her head until her ears were sore and red - just to block out her parents shrill shouts. Asking her mother why she had been crying, only to be ushered off to the nanny. Being told over a million times not to ask questions. Walking into the kitchen at one in the morning to get a snack, and finding her father alone with a glass of their finest wine. Walking home from privet school with three girls she didn't know screaming abuse to her because she lived in a big house and had an expensive car. Feeling the harsh sting across her left cheek, from the slap her best friend gave her, when she found out she had stolen her boyfriend. Wincing at the taste of her first drink and never realising how many she would later consume. Holding her crying sister after she walked in on their father with another woman. Dipping her head in the water made her feel better. As though she was cleansing away all her bad memories, getting rid of her ghosts. Her pain drifted out of her mind and into the waves, who would take it a million miles away from her.
She tiptoed back into the bedroom as quietly as the old wooden floors would allow. She left her sandy clothes on the chair in the corner that was too stiff to sit in for more than three minuets. Ben lay asleep in their bed. The window on the ceiling allowed the moonlight to light up his face. His black hair was scruffy from a few hours sleep. His lovely soft lips were positioned in a permanent smile. Staring at him she noticed, for the first time, a solitary scar along each of his strong arms. Lifting up the crisp white sheets, she slipped in beside him.
Jenna winced as the phone rudely woke her. Ben was already sitting up and reading.
"What time is it?" She croaked. He looked over at her, smiling. He had the sweetest smile she had ever seen.
"Eleven Thirty," he spoke softly, bending to kiss her forehead. The phone continued to scream to them like a teething baby. Jenna frowned and picked up the green sixties receiver.
"Hello?" she moaned.
"Aren't you up yet?" It was her younger sister, Sarah.
"Of course I'm up" she lied.
"No you are not! I can hear it in your voice. We shared rooms for thirteen years, I no you, you big slob." On the other end of the telephone, there was a curious slurping noise mixed in with the sounds of traffic, in the background of her sister's chirpy voice.
"What did you ring for? Apart from to nag me."
"Well" her sister cut off mid sentence to let out a light giggle. "Sorry, I have James here with me."
She pronounced 'James' in a mocking tone. He was no doubt another of her meaningless flings. Jenna could already picture them. 'James' in nothing but jeans, with his arms around her sister's waist and his mouth nibbling gently on her neck. Sarah just in jeans and a white bra, with her blonde curly hair pulled loosely back from her face. There would probably be two glasses of champagne on her glass table and the patio doors would be open, letting the sounds of traffic into their stylish London apartment.
"How are you and Ben, by the way?" she inquired.
"We're fine," there was no point into talking about relationships with her sister. Not while both there men were right by their sides anyhow.
"I just rang to see how you were. To see when you're coming home."
Jenna sighed. "Sarah, I am home,"
"Jen-Jen I thought we'd been through all this! Moving to that dreadfully boring little village was only temporary. Daddy only wanted you to clear your head, none of us expected you to stay for more than a month."
"Is she insulting this place again?" smiled Ben. I smiled back and turned away.
"Listen, I don't know what it is but I like this place. I've grown attached."
"But you used to hate it!" Screeched Sarah while lighting a cigarette "I mean who couldn't, all that . silence."
"It grows on you." Sarah was too young to understand. She enjoyed living the high life. She was all fashion and flings and parties. Jenna just wanted to settle down. Live somewhere she could think, be with someone that accepted her for who she was. At first all the regularity and miniature size of the place drove her wild. Now she loved it. It was safe.
"But your stuck in such a small cottage! Daddy could have easily got you something much nicer," her sister protested.
Jenna sighed. She wouldn't try to explain that the cottage was the largest in the village and the location was amazing - right by the sea. Although it was true, her father would build her a mansion on the shore if she wanted it badly enough.
"Maybe I should come and visit you - find out what's making you stay." Jenna knew it was an empty threat. Her sister would never leave London unless it was to visit somewhere like Paris or Rome. Cornwall certainly wasn't for her.
Ben's hand slid under the covers and along Jenna's back. It reached her bum and made its way back up. It was his way of hinting that he wanted to stop the conversation.
Ben had magic hands. They felt so good against your skin that he could make you do almost anything with a simple touch. He used to be a masseuse but now he was a painter, although he did massage villagers occasionally for extra cash.
"Sarah honey I have to go," His hands curled around her stomach.
"Ok, ill let you get back to Ben." Both sisters hung up the phone simultaneously.
Jenna turned around to face him. They smiled at each other like a couple of goof's. Ben curled up to her so his face was inches from hers. He had just brushed his teeth; his breath was sweet and fresh. He lent into her and let his lips lay on hers. She let him coax open her mouth with little resistance and slowly melted away into him. Yes, she defiantly wasn't going back. Why go back to her nightmares while she was right in the middle of her dreams?