Ocean's Call

Blue Waters

Like a breath of air, she floated from the empty halls of her home and over the boardwalk, her feet making barely a sound on the sandy old wood as she ran. The light wind blew through her hair, whipping it up into a living, swirling creature that swarmed her delicate face.

Her feet took to the water's edge, the seawater calmly lapping at her converse, causing the material of her cargo pants to become soaked right up to her knees. She didn't notice.

Riveted by the natural beauty of each wave as it reached its crescendo and then fell to applause, Melody was consumed in a world of her own finding.

She warmed her hands in her pockets, the cold sea air sinking into her skin, and encountered a small, cold object in the base of her right trouser leg. Snatching the offending item out of its niche, she found it was the mp3player she'd lost months ago. Peering at the dusty and grime encrusted glass, she twiddled the dials, a lone figure cut out of the sunset.

Minutes passed before she found what she was looking for: her favourite song, blue waters. Clicking play, the first strums of the tune stroked her ears and plucked at her heart, the slow beat of the song making her feet itch with the urge to dance.

Sliding across the glistening sand with the grace of a songbird, Melody threw herself into a dance that had burrowed in the pit of her soul. It was a dance of fluidity but, just like the repetitive waves, her feet landed on each beat. Sometimes she quickened, fancy footwork emphasising a favourite bar, and others she slowed, drawing out a turn or an arch for an imaginary audience.

Meanwhile, running along the sands to his own beat of breath, breath, and lunge, shot a young man. Instead of passing Melody on by as most would, he found himself hypnotised by the beauty of the woman and her art.

He didn't say a word as he followed the woman's steps, drawing closer to her form with each beat, each bar and every line of sweet music. Instinctively, the rhythm seemed to flow out and surround him, welcoming a stranger to the dance.

Staying close to her back and mirroring her actions in perfect time, he wrapped his arms around her slim waist, bare of fabric. Melody leaned back against the stranger, her eyes closed as she swayed, buoyed up by the magic of the moment.

The song ended.

Melody tensed and spun round in her partner's arms.

'Who are you?' she whispered.

The man said nothing. He smiled, winked at her awestruck, upturned face and jogged off into the darkening distance, back the way he'd come.