Ocean Kisses

Sand

Tango Pov

There I sat, the cool sand pressing into my legs as I stared out at the horizon, the water stretching endlessly before me. The sky above had darkened, deep blues and purples creeping in as the sun dipped lower. The ocean's rhythm, once soothing, now felt more ominous, the waves crashing louder in the growing stillness. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was out there, something waiting beneath the surface, hidden in the dark.

I needed to focus. I couldn’t sit there and let fear consume me. I glanced around, taking in the wreckage scattered across the beach—broken pieces of the plane, twisted metal, shards of glass. It all seemed too surreal, too detached from reality. But I couldn’t let myself be lost in the mystery of it. I needed shelter. I needed something to protect me from whatever might come when night fell.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the worry aside. There was no time to panic. I had to make do with what I had. My hands dug into the soft sand, fingers working with precision as I began to build. Not a fortress. Not a bunker. Just a sandcastle. A strange choice, but the simple task, the soothing motion of creating something, was the only thing that felt right in that moment.

As I shaped the walls, carving towers and deep moats, I felt the tension begin to ease, if only a little. The act of creation, however small, grounded me in the present, a reminder that I was still alive, still capable of doing something in this strange, broken world. The sound of the waves was constant, almost like a lullaby, but the darkening sky whispered of things unseen, things that lurked in the quiet shadows of the night.

The castle took shape slowly, my hands steadying as I focused on the task, each grain of sand falling into place. I wasn’t sure if it would offer any real protection, but for now, it felt like enough. Something I had control over in a world that had suddenly turned upside down.

I paused for a moment, gazing at the half-built structure. The water lapped at the shore, creeping closer, as if curious about my little creation. And then, the wind picked up, carrying with it a chill that made me shiver despite the warmth of the sand beneath me. I glanced over my shoulder, feeling that familiar pull in my chest—the sense that I wasn’t alone. Something was watching. Something was waiting.

But for now, I had my sandcastle, and in that fragile moment, it felt like it could be enough to keep the darkness at bay.

The waves began to change, their rhythm growing more erratic, the water crashing harder against the shore. The once gentle lull became aggressive, as if the ocean itself was angry, restless. I hadn’t expected my little sandcastle to protect me for long. It was more of a distraction, a small act of control in a world that seemed to be falling apart. But as the waves swelled, my mind wandered to the thought that whatever had saved me from the wreckage—whatever had clawed off my belt and freed me from the sinking plane—was still out there.

I didn’t know what it was, or why it had done what it did, but something inside me, maybe a small whisper of instinct, told me it hadn’t meant me harm. I had no proof, no tangible reason to believe it, but deep down, I felt a strange reassurance in the pull of the ocean. Maybe that was why I wasn’t dead. Maybe that was why I was still here.

The air around me grew heavier with the sound of the waves crashing closer and closer to the base of my little shelter. I knew it wouldn’t last. I wouldn’t last here much longer. The uncertainty gnawed at my gut, the question of what waited in the dark still haunting the edges of my mind. But in the chaos of my thoughts, a strange calm began to wash over me.

I couldn’t explain it, but a melody, an old hymn, began to echo in my mind. It was as if it had always been there, buried deep within me, waiting to be called upon. The words were lost to me, like memories too distant to grasp, but the melody was haunting, comforting. I began to hum it softly, the tune rising and falling with the waves, each note laced with a quiet sense of peace.

I didn’t know where the hymn had come from, but it soothed something deep within, a part of me that longed for reassurance, for something familiar in a world that had suddenly become so alien. I hummed louder, my voice barely more than a whisper against the roar of the waves, but it didn’t matter. The song—whatever it was—wrapped around me like a fragile shield.

Maybe it was the ocean, or maybe it was something else, but I felt the growing certainty that whatever was out there, whatever had saved me, meant no harm. The thought brought a small sense of peace, an acceptance that I wasn’t entirely alone in this vast, unpredictable world. Maybe this was fate, or perhaps something more than fate, but I wasn’t ready to die yet. Not with the ocean's soft hymn in my ears, not with the presence of something unknown, yet strangely comforting, waiting just beyond the waves.

As the sky deepened into shades of ink and violet, I settled down on the sand, exhausted and overwhelmed. Hunger gnawed at me, an ache in my stomach that I couldn’t ignore. I hadn’t eaten since before the crash, and the realization made the emptiness inside me feel sharper. But there was nothing I could do. The beach was barren, and I had no means to scavenge for food. The hunger would have to wait. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ignore the ache, letting the sound of the ocean lull me to sleep.

The night was restless, broken by strange dreams of those purple eyes watching over me. They lingered in the corners of my mind, comforting and mysterious, their presence steady even as I drifted in and out of consciousness. When I finally opened my eyes to the soft light of dawn, I was greeted by something I never expected.

The beach, which had been empty save for scattered pieces of wreckage the night before, was now a treasure trove of survival. Debris from the crash had been washed ashore—suitcases, containers, supplies—all spread out as if carefully placed there by unseen hands. Food packets glinted in the early sunlight, along with bottles of water, tangled ropes, and scraps of fabric. There were even first-aid kits and tools nestled amongst the wreckage. It was everything I needed to survive.

For a moment, I just stared, disbelief rooting me to the spot. This didn’t feel like chance. It was too deliberate, too convenient. My eyes darted to the waves, where the ocean stretched out, calm and endless. Had the current brought it all here? Or… was it something else?

I shook off the unease and moved quickly, the ache in my stomach urging me on. I rifled through the suitcases, searching for anything useful—canned goods, snacks, bottles of water. There was a sense of relief as I found more and more, but the feeling was tinged with the strange thought that someone, or something, had brought it to me. I had seen the crash, had watched the wreckage sink. How had it all ended up here, so perfectly placed within reach?

As I dug through the pile, I couldn’t help but feel watched. It wasn’t menacing, but the sensation was there, like a shadow at the edge of my mind. Whatever had saved me was still here, wasn’t it? I paused, looking out at the ocean, the waves lapping gently at the shore as if answering my unspoken question.

Whether it was fate or something more, I didn’t know. But as I gathered the supplies, a small flicker of gratitude bloomed in my chest. For now, I had what I needed to survive.