Droplets (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 1) Read Free

doing or wearing anything to make myself stand out.      
    Shaking my head from my thoughts, I hurried out of the room and climbed up towards the deck. Stepping into the night air I smiled to myself: it was a perfect night. The stars were shining brilliantly without any man-made light to pale their existence, and a soft breeze blew gently, lifting strands of my hair over my face. Shaking them out of the way, I walked to the bow of the Lady Marie , my favorite spot.
    I sat down with my back to the point of the boat, forearms resting on my knees, and breathed in the fresh smell of the ocean. My eyes flickered up to the stars once more and gazed at their beautiful patterns and shapes. I began to hum a soft tune to myself and before long was singing out loud.    
    It was almost eerie to hear my voice mix with the rhythm of the waves hitting the Lady Marie . Its rhythm changed the tune of the songs, and I found myself making up simple rhymes to go along with the slap-slapping of the waves.  Time passed as I sat there at the front of the boat singing to myself; I was in a world of my own.     
    Gradually as I sang a sound reached my ears. It was different from the sounds of the thudding water, or the soft wind as it whispered by. It was strange and beautiful, a soft murmur, just barely noticeable.
    I continued to sing but a little bit softer trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. My ears told me it came from over the edge of the boat, but my mind wouldn’t let such a crazy thought take root. 
    The soft murmur moved in and out, and up and down with my voice. A sense of foreboding began to pound in my veins. I felt as though I was not the only one breathing in the silence; as though someone rather than something was singing along with me. Though I was petrified with fear, I couldn’t stop. There was a deep curiosity that made me want to continue this strange duet.
    Cautiously, I began to sing louder—coaxing the murmur to join me. When my voice reached a new pitch the murmur joined in, and yet I still couldn’t tell what it was exactly. It was beautiful and hardly above a softly spoken conversation.
    The murmur spoke no words; its voice mumbled softly as it danced in intricate patterns around the lyrics. Sometimes it would match my tune and follow along, other times it would go off into its own rhythm.
    I moved from one song to the next, hardly speaking the words, voicing both jaunty melodies and mournful ballads. The slow songs caused the murmur to join in with a stronger voice. In a way I felt that it enjoyed these slow and beautiful tunes more than the fast, upbeat songs. I don’t know how long I sang, but eventually I couldn’t think of any more songs.  My voice stopped abruptly, as did the murmur’s.
    The peace that had come while I was singing with the murmur disappeared. I had a strange feeling that whatever had been singing with me was not natural or safe. My ears strained for any noise that would give whoever or whatever it was away.
    I could hardly hear anything above the loud, quick beat of my heart. My hands were cold as if no blood was reaching them. I didn’t want to move a muscle for fear of missing a sound; for a long time I sat barely breathing above a whisper.
    With the fear came logic; I must have been kidding myself. Common sense told me I was just imagining the murmur and it had not been there, but the other part of me knew I was lying.
    It was probably just an echo, or it could be my brothers pulling a prank on me. They were probably watching my horrified face and about to yell, “Got you!”  This was an assumption that I could live with. I was satisfied with it and stood to make my way back inside.
    Trying to act casual, to show Derek and Sean I was unafraid, I paused to look out across the sea. Then, because my mind had to know, I leaned over the side of the boat just to prove there was nothing there.
    A loud splash resonated from the water right beneath me. I