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Lanakila continued down the shoreline, stumbling occasionally. Her legs felt light as feathers, airy and nonexistent. Her brown hair whipped around her face. Irritated, she raked it into a ponytail.
She tapped her fingers in rhythmic patterns upon her tattered satchel, something she often did when she was stressed or had racing thoughts. The wet sand squished between Lana's toes, sending a shiver throughout her body. She wrapped her arms around her midsection and pressed on.
As Lanakila wandered further from the rowdy teens and bonfires, she realized how unsafe it was for her to separate of from the group. Reports of sexual assault were not uncommon in Guadeloupe, and many a foolish person had fell to their death from the jagged cliffs.
These nagging doubts in her mind seemed convincing enough, but Lanakila didn't feel like socializing or pretending to enjoy herself. She pressed on, and started the climb to the Guadeloupean Cliffs.
They stood at a breathtaking height, displaying a view of the fishing port and the sparkling Caribbean Sea beyond it. If one was to swim from Myrtle Beach and past the Cliffs, they would discover beautifully hidden sea caves, mysterious and private. The last slice of untouched treasure on the island. They were Lanakila's destination.
Lana had always felt at one with the sea, especially after her mother disappeared. But it was only in the sea caves that she felt content, free from the responsibilities that clouded her days.
She scratched at her calves as a trickle of sweat ran down her leg. On Guadeloupe, only Westerns could afford the privileges of running water and electricity. Which meant many, long days of dirt caked fingernails and strung, greasy hair.
Hiking up the slope towards the Cliffs, her eye swept over the dark, bundling clouds on the horizon. Only ten minutes ago, it had been clear and pristine.
Interesting, she thought to herself, making up for the intimate silence.
Prickly weeds and loose sand bore through her worn down sandals, causing a slip here, a fall there. The journey to the sea caves had never felt this exasperating before.
Her legs, which before had merely hummed with strain, now felt numb and rock like. Her ankle twitched possessively with a mind of its own. She watched in horror as it twitched to and fro, her lip trembling.
(/) (/)
Finally arriving at the caves twenty minutes after she departed Myrtle Beach, Lanakila collapsed on the cold, unforgiving rock, sighing as it pierced her skin. Her chest heaved up and down as her vision blurred.
In. Out...
In. Out.
Water dripped from the uneven rocky ceilings, splattering across her face. It cooled her cheeks and ran slightly into her mouth. Lana rolled her tongue around, desperate to soothe her throat.What is happening to me?
She reached into her satchel, and weakly withdrew her leather water pouch, shaking it up and down. There was no sound of sloshing water, only the pat-pat of the dew and her shallow breaths.
The tears Lanakila had been holding back now flowed intensely. She despised herself for being foolish enough to come here, despised herself for crying. It wasn't her job to cry. It was her job to keep it together when everyone else fell apart, to support her family at all costs.
The cold began to set in, first at her feet. Her toes felt numb, as if they could shatter to a million pieces and it wouldn't matter. Her head bobbed around slightly, and her stomached rumbled profusely. Lana sighed. It had certainly been an eventful night, for right now there was nothing she wanted more than to be in her burlap hammock, fast asleep.
She'd need to get going soon. Jennifer was most likely wondering where she was, and walking home sounded eerie as well as inefficient.
Small waves lapped melodically into the caves, seeping all the way up to where Lana crouched at the back of the cave, where the rocks provided a shelf above the sand. The full moon shone as shadows danced on the walls, similar to the way it had looked in Lanakila's bedroom.
Tucking her legs to her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut as an attempt to block out the agony wrenching through her. Her forehead relaxed, and eventually she drifted into an uneven sleep.
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Hey guys! the picture at the beginning of this chapter is of the Sea Caves.
I'm so tired, unfortunately the teenaged author is a nocturnal species :|
Thanks for even contemplating reading this, you're a gem [that sounded creepier on screen than how I pictured it]
xoxo
payton.
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Sea Spell
Viễn tưởng[Major Editing Coming Soon] A rising tension. A waning moon. Shady, skeptical beings. An underwater dynasty, crumbling at the fists of rebelling forces. Nestling just off the rocky, tourist-swamped coasts of Guadeloupe lies an aquatic, mythological...