Those who were taken...
They never came back, dragged beneath the waves never to return.
Their haunting screams were a symbol of their horrific deaths.
Like shadows they lay in wait, the deep blue waters hiding them from view.
With sharp claws they...
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On one of San Mahina's many avenues, in front of a small booth, under the awning away from the sun, stands a young woman. She is clad in ripped shorts and a thin tank top over a maroon swimsuit. Her thick, blonde hair is pulled back into a loose pony tail, a few strands sticking to her sweaty forehead.
She meanders through the stand's products, her gaze falling on a basket of mangos. Her long fingers graze over the fruits, swatting the occasional bug. Her grey eyes glance up, signaling with her hand for the seller.
The short man shuffles over, his deeply tanned skin proving he is a local. He smiles at the young woman, wrinkles forming around his eyes.
"Would you like to check out, miss?" He asks, an accent audible in his words.
"Yes, sir," the young woman replies politely, a small smile gracing her thin lips. "These two mangos," she says, handing the man the fruits.
She follows the man as he leads her to a table with a cash register. The man scrutinizes her curiously, his eyebrows furrowing. "You are not from here, are you?" He asks, no doubt noticing her pale skin and blonde hair from a climate much cooler than the island.
"No, sir. I'm on vacation with my family," she replies, handing him the appropriate cash.
The man frowns. "We don't get many tourists here anymore."
"It is a shame, isn't it? This place is beautiful," the girl replies airily, smiling at the sight of a small bird flying past.
"You mean to say you do not know?" He asks.
"I don't follow, sir."
The older fellow lowers his voice, gesturing her to incline her ear. The girl obliges, though not without much wary hesitance. "There are legends, miss--stories."
"What kind of stories?" She questions.
"Drownings! Unexplainable disappearances," he murmurs. "You ask why no one comes here. Aye, for good reason they don't! No one goes in those waters and comes back alive."
"Sir, I'm sorry but--"
The man shakes his head frantically. "No, no, miss. Don't go in the water, miss. Dangerous things swim those waters."
"Don't listen to him. He's a crazy old man," a woman at a neighboring stand says, scrutinizing the man with her nose upturned.
Disregarding the woman's cruel remark, and feeling a need to spare the man's feelings, she asks: "What dangerous things?"
The man looks both ways, shooting the other woman a dark look, before returning his gaze to the girl.
"There are many tales and legends of what could be in those waters, no one knows for sure, but I can tell you what I believe," the man whispers, his eyes grazing the people passing by.
