The Fisherman's Niece

Chapter 10

       The air was thick and the color of the world was murky gray. Meriel tried to take a deep breath and sit up, but was unable to do either. She gazed straight up, since it was the only thing she could do, and watched as hazy clouds floated by. She was stuck on her back . As she lay there a faint hissing sound kept nagging at her. She was able to look left and right, but all she could see was sand. She could feel the cool gritty stuff all around her, and when she forced her head to look in the direction of her toes, she could tell that she'd been completely buried in sand.

       She began to struggle in a feeble attempt to break free, but then she noticed that she was not alone. A small boy wearing nothing but a pair of dirty khaki shorts was kneeling about where her knees would be. His head was down and he appeared to be carefully carving something. Meriel realized that he must be shaping the sand that she'd been buried it. The plastic shovel in his hands made soft noises as he concentrated on his work.

       His dark hair hung in long wet curls that fell forward, hiding most of his face from her view. She was transfixed by his diligence as he carefully moved each small bit of sand into it's proper place. Hoping she wouldn't startle him, she called out.

       "Hello? Can you help me?"

       He stopped his work, but continued to stare at the sand before him. She could see that a faint smile had crept onto the boy's face and she got the distinct impression that he was enjoying her discomfort.

       There was a flash of brightness to her left and she caught some movement out of the corner of her eye. It proved to be a difficult task, but she turned her head as far as it would go. Her cheek grated against the rough sand and fine granules collected along the ridges of her ear. Ignoring the irritation, she strained to see what had drawn her attention. There was someone walking towards them on the beach. It was a woman wearing a long white gown. Her hair was long and dark, her face familiar. Mom.

       As she drew closer, Meriel wanted to call out, but every time she opened her mouth the wind would pick up and threaten to fill her throat with sand. She remembered the boy. When she turned her head back, he was no longer looking at the sand. He was facing her in a crouched position. His whole body was tense as though he meant to pounce. Meriel began frantically thrashing about as she tried to loosen the earth's hold on her. Two glowing yellow orbs stared at her from beneath tendrils of dark, matted hair. They were so luminous that they cast the rest of his face in shadows.

       The boy was poised to strike, but just as his muscles started rippling to life in order to put him in motion, the woman stepped up beside him. Her hand rested atop his head and his whole body relaxed. As she ruffled his hair affectionately, he settled back on his heels and looked up at her with sweet longing. Meriel watched as Mom picked up the boy who she suspected was more creature than human and allowed him to wrap himself around her as though he'd been nothing more than a frightened child. Mom's arms wrapped tightly around him in return as he buried his head in her shoulder.

       The wind was whipping itself into a frenzy. Sand was clouding her vision, and making it difficult to breathe. A storm is coming. She fought against the confines of her sandy grave, trying to free herself before the wind could finish the job of burying her. She wanted to call out to Mom, but couldn't draw enough air to get anything above a whimper out. Finally she started to feel herself gaining space. Her arms could move more freely. She was going to break out.

       Boosted by the confidence of her small success, she fought harder and felt like crying as her fingers began to break the surface, then her arms. With some upper body freedom she began digging away at the sand above her chest. When she could feel movement she planted her hands on either side of her for leverage and pushed up with all the strength she could muster.