Lost Little Turtle (One Shot)

                                                                

Thalia's POV

I remember the days when I was a carefree child, running down the stairs at the call of my mother's voice for dinner. The sound of her strumming her old guitar would fill the cozy little house, and I would hum along, even though I never quite learned to play myself.

As I look around now, everything seems so familiar, yet so distant. The worn wooden floors, the fading photographs on the walls – they all hold fragments of memories, like puzzle pieces that don't quite fit together anymore.

My gaze settles on the surfboard, taller than me, tucked away in the corner. I remember the day we bought it, my mother's eyes sparkling with excitement as she showed me the little turtle stickers I had carefully placed all over it. The ocean had always been her sanctuary, and she had hoped to share that passion with me.

With a heavy sigh, I uncover the board and carry it outside, feeling the familiar weight in my hands. The beach is quiet, the clouds overhead casting a moody, gray hue over the waves. This is the kind of weather I always loved – the kind that seemed to match the turmoil in my own heart.

As I wade into the water, I can feel the curious stares of the locals. "Is she the daughter of Tala?" I hear them whisper, their voices tinged with pity. I try to ignore them, focusing instead on the rhythmic motion of paddling, on the growing swell beneath me.

And then, I see it – a flash of movement in the distance, a familiar silhouette gliding across the water. "Mama?" The word escapes my lips, and suddenly, I'm no longer in control. The wave crashes over me, and I'm submerged, the salt water stinging my eyes, my limbs thrashing helplessly.

When I finally make it back to the shore, I collapse onto the sand, my body wracked with sobs. How could she have just left me? After all these years, the pain of her abandonment still cuts deep, a wound that refuses to heal.

As I lie there, eyes closed, I hear a faint rustling. Lifting my head, I see a tiny turtle hatchling, struggling against the current, trying to make its way to the open ocean. Most of its siblings have already disappeared into the waves, but this one little turtle seems determined to forge its own path, even if it means going against the tide.

Slowly, I crawl over to the hatchling, gently scooping it into my hands. "We're just the same, you and I," I whisper, feeling a new sense of clarity wash over me. "Lost little turtles, searching for our way."

With a renewed sense of purpose, I carefully guide the hatchling back towards the water, watching as it finds its footing and begins to swim. And in that moment, I know what I must do. I may have lost my mother, but I haven't lost myself. It's time to find my own path, to carve out a future that's distinctly mine.

As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in a breathtaking array of colors, I turn and head back home, the surfboard tucked under my arm. The road ahead may be uncertain, but I'm ready to face it, one wave at a time.

(Third Person Point of View)

Thalia woke up the next morning, the first rays of dawn filtering through her bedroom window. She laid there, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of the previous day's events.

The encounter with the turtle hatchling had stirred something deep within her, a glimmer of hope that had been extinguished for so long. She knew that she couldn't keep living in the shadow of her mother's legacy, constantly searching for a glimpse of her in the waves.

It was time to forge her own path, to find the courage to step out of the darkness and into the light.

Thalia rose from her bed, her muscles aching from the exertion of the previous day's surf session. She made her way to the kitchen, the familiar scent of her mother's favorite herbal tea filling the air. With a shaky hand, she reached for the kettle, the weight of the past pressing down on her.