Lenie gazed at the waves and imagined Adriaan beside her. In one hand she grasped her hair, broken red strands caught on her wedding ring. In the other she clutched a gold locket her mother found after a tempest ripped apart a merchant ship.
She wanted to believe in happy endings. Like her Adriaan who would become a doctor after almost dying in a shipwreck as a child. Like the tall man on a horse riding into the waves to free those drowning amidst a wreck in rolling waves while clouds poured like devil’s smoke down the mountains.
But other endings also needed remembering.
Like those who nursed broken survivors while the rider grew weary and floundered unseen.
Like brine stinging mortal wounds.
Like shallow graves in fine sand.
Like a body never recovered.
Like those once saved returning to the sea.
Like a figure trapped on horseback dragging Adriaan’s ship beneath the waves.
Hersenskim 