The ocean can be gentle, lulling one into a false sense of security. But the waters are never calm in the Bermuda triangle, and when the waves pick up, one may be dragged under the sea.
Kiara Vatelle's love of the ocean brings her to The Bahamas for...
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I ascend a metal ladder, the rungs creaking with every step. The candle in my hand illuminates the rung before me. Each movement of my feet, each grasp of my hand, is deliberate. One false move, and I will tumble to the ground.
A small white door appears, the portal to the attic. It opens, and my nose wrinkles at the stench of mildew and rotting wood. I need to find what I came for as quickly as possible. Then I can leave.
My gaze sweeps by rusted trunks, old maps, microphones, and bookcases of Hamlet scripts. My skin scrawls, prickles with beads of sweat. Who knows what lurks up here.
At last, I see a piano in a corner, half covered in a black cloth. That's where it has to be. It was the only hiding place.
A hiss slithers through the air, evaporating into the shadows. Chills shimmy down my spine. Slowly, I turn, met with the two fiery eyes of a snake, its thick, red body coiled up to the ceiling. It hisses again, white fangs protruding from its mouth. My scream splices the air. Adrenaline propels me from the attic, and I float down the ladder. The snake pursues, spitting out acid that splotches my shirt. I tear through the hall, but the snake is gaining on me. Petrified, I glance over my shoulder. Its red form expands by the second, spilling into open bedroom doors. Its mouth opens wider than my body, a pit of darkness, preparing to swallow its prey whole...
I bolted upright in a blackened room, legs encased in a sheet. Panting, my eyes darted around the darkness. Where is it? My hand flew to my bedside lamp and flicked the switch. The light scattered the shadows to show my room—a bed and nightstand, a window, a desk, and two bookcases lining the cream-colored walls. I brushed away the hair stuck to the back of my sweaty neck. Gradually, my blood slowed its rush through my veins. It was just a dream.
Exhaustion overcame me, and I collapsed onto my pillow. Everything is alright. Nothing's going to hurt me. There's no snake. I just need to go back to bed.
I reached for the light switch and gave it a gentle turn. The room faded into the dark. My eyes closed, my body easing itself into sleep. But the image of the giant, red snake appeared in my mind. I pulled my sheet a little tighter, curling my legs into a ball. I just need to close my eyes and think happy thoughts.
Whenever I had bad dreams as a kid, Mom would come in and soothe me, saying, "Think about happy things. Imagine you're at a peaceful beach. The water is lulling, and you just gently float on the surface. You can feel all of the tension in your body. Just allow the sea to carry your worries away."
A golden beach unfurled in my mind's eye. I lay in shallow water that lapped against my skin. The tension in my body melted away, just like Mom said it would, just like it always did.
But a new image moulded in the distance, the image of a girl with soaked auburn hair. Her arms batted the water as she slowly sank below the ocean. A wave crept behind her, threatening to topple over at any moment.
