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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~•~
Steadily, the moon descends from the sky, the sun rising in its place. The tide recedes and the gulls fly up from their hideaways in the rocks. The breeze picks up its pace, blowing it's way down the beach and tickling the hairs at the base of Cally's neck.
Atlas brushes those strands away and rests his hand on the back of her head, his fingers occasionally dipping down to stroke her neck. Her thumbs stroke his cheeks, his eyebrows, his lips, fingertips affectionately tracing his every feature.
No tears were shed, as they had long since run out of those sometime during the night. They just stared at each other silently, kissing, touching, holding. Atlas and Cally only lay still, each basking in the presence of the other.
Their time together had run out and now this was all that they had left.
"I don't regret it," Cally whispers. "I knew it would hurt, but I don't regret it--I never will."
Atlas rests his forehead against hers. "Neither do I." Atlas pulled away from her, propping himself up on his elbows. He then spoke the words that neither of them ever wanted to hear. "We need to go."
He looks down at her lying in the sand, her eyes dark and hollow, skin pale. She looks dead. She gazes up at him with an expression so tragic he can barely stand to see it.
"I know."
Atlas is left on the shore as Cally goes alone back to their home. The little homemade tent blows gently in the early morning breeze. She pushes the flap aside to step in. She falls to her knees with a hand to her mouth as she can hardly contain her emotions.
The fire has gone cold, the coals long since cooled to an ashy grey. Across the fire from here is where she first sang to him; she remembers how the flames cast shadows over his angular cheekbones, the cheekbones she's kissed so many times.
Her hands press softly into the leaves where they laid together those few nights. She remembers how his skin felt warm under her cheek as she laid on his chest. It was only a few days ago when he surprised her by sneaking to her side, curling himself around her while she slept.
Even now Cally can picture the awe she saw in his eyes when she told him about her world, the interest in his voice as he asked question after question. There was still so much she hadn't told him--so much she wanted to show him.
Atlas clutched his chest as the sound of her sobs reached his ears. And here he was stuck, unable to reach her, unable to comfort her. He couldn't run to her and pull her into his arms.
Soon she returned carrying a shirt full of food for their journey. Her eyes were puffy, cheeks red. Atlas' heart broke. Cally walked silently to the raft and began dragging it to the water. She didn't speak, she could hardly look at him without crying again.
