Song of the Deep Read Free

Looking from one
side of the room to the other, you can see how my style evolved from happy
yellow suns poking out of corners to brooding, charcoal-shaded portraiture.
Lately I’ve been drawing seascapes. I try to make each one tell a story of the
secrets that lie beneath the surface.
    I keep restlessly looking back
out the window. The wind is beating against the side of the house, making the
door rattle in its frame. I look back down at my drawing and see that I’ve
sketched a tiny boat, cradled by giant waves. I stop and stare up at the
ceiling. There’s a drawing there that I must have done when I was five years
old. It shows my mother and father and me all playing and laughing in the waves
as a smiling sea serpent swims in the background. That was the last picture I
drew of my mother.
    The rain is pouring harder than ever now. I’m starting to grow
anxious. I light the candle and put on my jacket. Out at the cliff edge, I can
barely see the white crests of the waves in the darkness. I cover the top of
the glass shield with my hand to keep the rain off the candle. I watch the
lights of the ships bobbing in the waves, knowing one of them must be my
father.
    One by one the lights turn to the left or to the right and then
disappear. I hold the candle up high, hoping my father can see it through the
rain. The sea is dark now. There are no more lantern lights on the waves. Maybe
my father’s light burnt out? Or maybe it was broken in the storm. I stare out
at the blackness of the sea. And I wait.
    The rain pours down, and I wait.
    My legs shake from the cold and my soaking hair covers my eyes,
but I keep the candle held up. I know he’s out there somewhere, looking at my
candle and trying to get home.
    I wait.
    I try to imagine his proud smile when he sees the clam shovel I
made for him.
    My arms ache from holding the candle up. I stare out into the
darkness, listening to the distant crash of the waves. The candlelight is
fainter now. The wax is almost gone.
    The wind has died down. The rain is a constant, steady stream.
    I wait.
    The candle’s tiny flame flickers and disappears. I’m in total
darkness.
    I kneel down at the cliff edge and stare out toward the sea,
waiting for a light to appear.
    I lie down for just a moment, resting my head on my arm.
    I can hear my father’s voice.
    “Hold on to me, Merryn.” I look around for him in the darkness.
The ground is tipping under my feet. There are waves all around us. We’re on
the deck of his boat. My father pulls me toward the hatch, helping me get below
deck. A huge wave crashes down over us. Water spills through the hatch, soaking
my clothes.
    I reach for my father’s hand. Through the hatch I see something
heavy and red crash onto the deck. My father is knocked backward and the hatch
slams shut. I rush back up the ladder to reopen it. I can’t believe what I’m
seeing. There’s a giant red tentacle arm wrapped around the hull of the boat.
    The boat shakes violently back and forth. I lose my footing and
fall down, banging my head on the floor. I hear my father’s voice.
    “Merryn! Merryn!” He’s coming down the hatch. Suddenly we’re
pulled downward very fast. The sound of the wind is gone. Everything seems
quiet. Water is rushing into the hatch, rising quickly inside the tiny cabin.
My father picks me up and holds my head up as the water pours in. We’re
sinking. Not just sinking, but being violently pulled downward through the
water.
    My father’s face disappears below the water in the boat. He’s
still holding my head above water. I reach for him. I grab his hands and try to
pull him up with me.
    And then I wake up.
    I’m still lying on the ground at the edge of the cliff. The rain
has stopped.
    It wasn’t just a dream. I can’t explain how I know, but it was too
real to be just a dream. I was there. My father was there. He’s down below the
waves right now and he needs my help.
    I know what I have to do.



 
     
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    SCRAPS OF HOPE
     
    I