Beneath the Sand

Chapter one:

I had lived at the very edge of Maine all my life, and grew up on its cold shores. I remember all eleven years of my pitiable existence on that foggy iceberg of a beach. The first year wasnt so bad, and neither was the second, but it was when I turned three that the problems began.

My father was a lobsterman, and he always told me that I could come out with him on my third birthday, and he kept his promise. My mom had come, too. But there was some kind of freak accident with the boat, and I vaguely remember my parents screaming, and the entire boat getting drenched in water. I dont remember what happened after that.

I do remember having a life jacket on, but I don't think my parents did. I must have washed up somewhere only for the authorities to find me, but I don't remember how. I do remember the next day, though. The police were asking me how it happened, and didnt believe me because it was a sunny day and there couldn't have been a storm. Come to think of it, that might have been what has lead me to hate the police nowadays.

And so the headlines the next day ended up being "Faith and Eugene Mare lost at sea." And then proceeded to tell an unrealistic story nothing like what had actually taken place.

The next year, when I was four, I was living with my nasty aunt. I figured out that I had a strange power that no one else had. I also discovered that four year olds are bad at hiding things, and that my aunt was willing to abuse my power for money.

She began threatening to take away my food and water if I didnt listen to her, and here we are now.

That's all I am. A cowardly eleven year old who is afraid to venture out of her dusty room. Afraid to face her cruel Aunt that took her in after her parents were drowned. It's been the same for the past seven years.

But I can't help but think that something is going to change tonight. A brave thought for a scrawny little girl huddled under heavy blankets on a cold, creaky bed. But tonight is different. Tonight is the night that I finally have a plan.

I poke my head out from under the scratchy covers and resist the urge to shudder at the cold, but I breath it in anyway, because I love the salty scent of the sea. My bed creaks, and I can hear the far off waves from my shattered window. I just sit there for a minute, basking in the thought of what I am about to do. My aunt will come in a minute, and I'll run for it then. When she tries to collect me to summon things.

I slowly slide my feet out of the tangle of blankets and wince slightly as they painfully connect with the broken glass that always seems to be on the wood floor, but my feet are thickly calloused and it doesn't hurt as much as it could have. Even still, I step lightly, trying my best to avoid the shards of shattered mirror.

My Aunt often rants about how ugly I am, and last week she smashed my mirror while doing so. But I know that it's not true. Many people have complimented me on my knee-length platinum blond hair, even though it's so tangled that it's almost dreadlocked. Or my dark green eyes the color of seaweed, even though it's a gross color.

I reach the window only to be reminded that it too is broken, but I don't mind. I can't help but shiver at the spring midnight wind, though I'm still not so sure that winter has released its grip yet.

"Loon." her cold, clear voice whispers calmly, but I can see through that. She is worried about something. "Time to collect the pearls."

I sigh and turn, coming face to face with my pale, dark haired Aunt. No surprise there. Thankfully porcelain skin is the only visible aspect we have between us. She is a jewelry maker, and uses my power to help her collect things she uses.

I nod, not trusting my voice not to shake, which would give away my plan. She takes advantage of my strange talent almost every night.

"To the beach." And she turns, not even looking to see if I am following her, and I smirk. She won't predict what I am about to do.