Lacking Fragments: A Novel (Completed)

Chapter 4: The Lady by the Cursed Sea

IV. The Lady by the Cursed Sea

First, the white sand— it looked quite much as the color of dolomite, a tongue taste of snow milk. And then, just about passing by, emerald turtles appeared and sauntered on the said sand. Two turtles, in their exact number; which it might sound hilarious at first hearing. Of why, on top of a turtle is another turtle; both flapping their legs all the same, moving from their past emplacement toward their next destination. They were using their legs, their flippers, travelling the white sand— in such a slow manner, same as all turtles do. From left area to the right, they moved.

     Next, a soothing smell of the sea. One at its uniqueness, realistic capture of the scenery of a famous summer beach; that if seen by people, those fond of summertime, they would definitely say, "What a spot." Like whenever a person looks—stares, and got absorbed within a certain kind of art—at a resplendent antique painting in a museum.

     However, the steps of the turtles in motion later came to a halt when a sudden wave had surfaced. A quick, robust wave dragging the only seen reptile creatures off the place, out of my own mindful landscape.

     The wave is blackwater, and so does the sea itself; it's contrary of the white sand presented at the first image. Oh, the blackness of seawater, it's like black holes in space. Truly, the sound of nature's creation—this collision of sands and waves—had given birth to a vivid picture. A white sand seashore in my mind, straight inside the sea vortex I warped in. At once, as if I had no more limitation, no more restriction of what the abyss had bestowed upon me; as if my five senses, one by one at a time, were being swallowed and then lock-trapped into the unusual, literal scenery of yin and yang.

     By then I saw I was there, in a place I only imagined from the beginning; of which now then turned into a reality. I saw myself there, walking inside the landscape in slow pace, like I myself am reading a book in third person view. Unnatural as it looked, I looked like the main character in the story— the protagonist. In the frame.

     However, in speaking of time, it wasn't really me. It was younger me than my current age.

     From where I observed, I saw myself looking as a fine man in my thirties. A man who started working as an employee, under the company same as Maya's, wherein I was the Quality Control Assistant to the Manager. In the scenery, aside from my appearance, the way I looked and all that, the only difference from my past dreams are these: in there, I can control the way I think. I can move my flexible body wherever I wanted it to be. Both here as an unseen observer, and there as the said book character— I am in control.

      For a start, I tried looking for the turtles that got dragged by the wave of blackwater. I had moved my feet, at ease I walked inside the landscape in my mind. Step by step. All the while with the white sands touching the bottoms and tips of my black shoes. That in doing so, I checked, I searched and walked around, beside the sea, as tidy and orderly I could care; for the last thing I need is another blackwater wave, to ruin my dry shoes, like it interrupted the walks of the turtles.

     I walked a few steps; after finding nothing, another few. I had searched and searched, looking everywhere for the gone turtles. And where could they be?

     But no matter where I went, I did not find them. I hadn't seen the reptiles anywhere nearby. As if they were lost forever.

     "Hey, you."

     Quick off the mark, it was fair sound of a lady. Gentle. Soothing at its essential vocal vibration, but in such degree with hidden sense of sorrow—longingness—beneath its total tone. As if a long, forgotten call of someone familiar; a sound of larong kalye during one's childhood. And of someone, somehow, calling me from the land of the long dead. "Who's there?" I had called.