Ruksenna's Ghost
(AKA, my first post in forev's)
So, today I am posting a story which I have written for a mini-contest in Brigit's Flame. I was given a restriction of 3,000 words and a thing/place/literary device prompt to adhere to. My particular prompt was henna/coral reef/cliff hanger.
I always look down on those pathetic writers who feel the need to apologize for their work, so let me start with an apology: I know, like, nothing about Barbados other than what I have learned from the three part documentary hosted by Johnny Depp. So I feel bad even trying to write this. (Oh, and i don't know what the hell I was doing with the Ms. Abraham character, but I just pray noone feels offended.) I also feel that I tried to throw way too many elements into this little story, and it sort of fell apart by the end. Oh, yeah, also I could not think of an ending. (Oh, also AlexBond if you read this I apologize for borrowing the first part of your name. I was being a loser and wanted to play up the whole Alexander the Great/Roxanne thing.) Anyway, so in conclusion, I will not be putting this down as some of my best work, nor will I try to revamp and publish it later. HOWEVER, please let me know what you thought of style choices, language, flow, character development, and all that stuff. Comments and crtique always help me to know what I can do better going forward. =D
henna/coral reef/cliff hanger
Ruksenna ran the point of the mylar cone over the American woman's hand, listening to her chatter excitedly about the things she planned to do during her stay.
"Yes, yes, the turtles are beautiful..." she said, carefully tracing a design passed down to her through centuries of teaching. This woman would drink every night. She would go back to New York City with stories and photographs and a suitcase of memoribilia. Ruksenna drew the circular patterns steadily, imagining that they were already there on the skin, and she was simply going over what some other artist had done before.
"Will you see the coral reefs?" She asked to her own surprise.
"Yes!" the American replied, and Ruksenna felt the hand spasm with excitement. "Oh God, I can't wait! We're having a snorkeling lesson on Tuesday, but I think I'm going to go on my own tomorrow when we get back from the hike, before we go out to dinner."
Ruksenna nodded. "Very beautiful, the coral reefs. Very dangerous. My boyfriend works with the reefs."
"Dangerous?"
"Mm-hm, octopi and crustaceans and barracuda...Don't let a barracuda come near you. They don't attack, but if they did..." She shook her head, remembering the night she had gone out to the reef with Alex, the eye glistening quietly in the darkness, a darkness itself, sleek and terrifying. The mylar cone slipped, but not badly. She said nothing and continued the pattern, knowing the mistake would hardly be noticeable when it was complete. She considered telling the woman the trick of giving the barracuda something to bite down on that wasn't you, but decided against it.
Instead she told her of a few nice places to see the sunset and local foods to try while she was in town. When she was finished wrapping the hands and taking the American's credit card, having heard in detail the elaborate schedule this tourist had laid out for herself, she added, "Don't forget to relax on the beach." The woman left laughing.
The sun was setting as Ruksenna closed the door of her cramped little shop and locked it. The streets of Barbados were cooling finally after another long, hot day. For a moment she stood on the doorstep, feeling the town gently awaken with the evening. She could already hear the calm breathing of a flute, maybe from a rooftop a few doors down. Evenings were the beginning of something in Barbados, even if they were the end of the day. The drums would start soon, and the parties and drinking and laughter and singing, and the ground would shake sometimes out as far the beach and even the reefs, traumatizing Alex's fish and sea slugs. But for now there was only the quiet closing of shops and opening of heavy wooden doors, Ms. Abraham humming a low tune as she swept her step, the cyclists and taxis zipping by. Ruksenna took in a deep breath and unchained her own rusty blue bicycle, climbed on, and began pedaling her way towards the marine science compound, her safron scarf fluttering.
There was a rocky trail running along the coastline, connecting the roads that led from Bethshaba to St. Mark's, where the compound stood.
The sun fell swiftly behind the hills as she rode, and Ruksenna found herself pedaling in the darkness of the east coast of the island. The color had left the world, and the sky and water were different shades of a vast grey-blue, and the sand was white. She was afraid of riding in the dark like this, afraid of ruts and broken glass and things she couldn't see, afraid of the criminals Alex swore lurked behind every corner to assault her, afraid of the sea. She slowed down, listening to the waves crash rhythmically close by, watching the endless body of water that surrounded her as closely as she watched the path. Despite everything she understood about geography, she sometimes wondered how such a great thing could resist devouring this little island, and at night, she believed it felt the same way.
Now as she peddled slowly she realized that she could see a woman walking alone on the white beach. She slowed down further while she was still a few yards away, trying to decide if she was wearing a sundress or a towel. There were bungalows close by both up and down the beach, but it was still unusual to see a woman alone when it was getting dark. She looked lost. A chill ran down Ruksenna's spine as she pedaled closer, and she shivered suddenly. She was about to yell, to ask the lady if she needed any help when she stopped walking. Ruksenna braked immediately. For a moment the woman stood looking at something, the sea or the sky or the sand, Ruksenna couldn't tell. She wore a dress, but it wasn't a sundress at all. It was white, and tattered looking, pulled out to sea on the evening breeze. She turned slowly and looked at Ruksenna, the eyes, far away still, meeting her own. The woman raised a hand, her arm outstretched first towards Ruksenna, and then, in a sweeping gesture, out across the water. She pointed a finger then towards the empty horizon. Ruksenna waited. The figure turned and continued walking. Ruksenna waited still, waited until she had disappeared, dark hair blending with the crashing waves, white dress with the sand. Then she began pedaling furiously and didn't stop until she was in front of Alex's apartment.
"You look upset," he said without looking up from his laptop as she walked in. She helped herself to a cup of tea from the tiny stove, and sat across from him. She looked at the reports and graphs that covered his table, and finally set her cup on an old newspaper.
"How are the seaslugs?" she asked.
"I got a great photo today. Not the little guy I was looking for, but it's a good one. You know that National Geog-Are you all right?"
She shot a careful glance into his frowning, scientific eyes and and turned her face to the wall. "Fine," she said. "You would laugh."
He leaned back in his chair. "Most likely, but you haven't given me the opportunity yet, have you? Maybe I'll be concerned or angry or impressed. Maybe I'll want to do a study of it. Really, Ruksenna, you don't give me any credit." He leaned forward and pretended to type, but she knew he was listening.
"I saw a ghost tonight," she said quickly.
He left his hands hovering over the keyboard, and looked at her. "A ghost?"
She nodded.
"Where?"
"On my way here. On the shore in that space between the bungalows."
He raised his eyebrows, just barely. "Are you serious? You're serious. You saw a ghost." He took in a breath. "Are you sure it wasn't some drunk tourist, or a, a, you know, a bird or something?"
"She pointed at me, Alex. She pointed at me and then she pointed out across the sea. I felt cold. She was dead, Alex. I could see it in her eyes."
"Um." He rubbed his face and then the back of his neck.
"Do you believe me?"
"I don't believe that you're lying. Does that count for anything?"
Her mouth twisted. "Yes it does," she said. "Show me your beloved sea slug."
He brightened. "Well, he's not my beloved sea slug. I still haven't gotten a photo or anything of him. But I know he exists, and I'm going to prove it."
"To National Geographic."
"Well to the wor- ok yeah to National Geographic."
She gave him a triumphant little smile.
"Sea slugs are really interesting, ok? They're cool."
"Oh I'm sure."
"Do you know what the wikipedia page for a sea slug looks like?"
"I do not know what a wikipedia page looks like, Alex."
"Ok, well anyway, check out this photo I caught today." He dug through a few loose papers and came up with colored print-out of a strange light blue blob floating on the bright coral. Ruksenna theatrically raised an eyebrow, despite her fascination.
"It's called a red-tipped sea goddess."
"Alex, this is a gum wrapper."
"It is not a gum wrapper!"
He reached for the paper, but she snatched it away. "It is a gum wrapper, Alex," she said, holding it away from him, "and I am putting it in the garbage where it belongs."
"Give me my picture back!" he cried. She only cackled and kept it away from him, and didn't return it until he promised to take her out to dinner.
Ruksenna was thinking of Pakistan the next morning as she traced an ancient design onto another foreign hand, and of her first lessons in henna on a chipped tile floor there. She had not seen that land since before her mother's death, three years ago, and even when she visited, it had never been like going home. She wondered what her parent's family would say if they knew she was living with a white man, or rather she knew, and wondered how much they would say of it to her. For a moment she thought of the mysterious desert city where she believed God resided, where grown men cried and the most modest women furiously pelted Satan with stones, where she would likely never visit. Lightly touching the tip of the cone of mylar paper to white, tanning skin, she remembered whirling in her youth, chanting "Bismallah ar-Rahmain, ar-Rahiim." She knew the secret within annihilation of annihilation as the purpose of annihilation, she knew to let go and become a moth, incinerated by the flame of Allah, but an incinerated moth could not remember its dead mother, could not remember her large brown hand tracing the patterns long ago.
This tourist was displeased with Ruksenna's lack of conversation, and left a small tip. This Ruksenna didn't mind, exactly, as she had slipped a few times, and the design had come out uneven.
After she left Ms. Abraham came in saying, "Brought you some eggs, dear."
"Thanks!" Ruksenna said, hopping up to pour her a cup of coffee. She always had some ready when she knew Ms. Abraham was coming.
"Mm-mm, my girl, you look worn today. That white man's not keeping you awake, I hope."
She laughed. "No, I promise you."
"Well, that's a shame I suppose."
Ms. Abraham usually swallowed her cup and left, but today they sat down across from each other with their mugs in front of them. "Do you believe in ghosts?" Ruksenna asked.
"Oh, yes, I do, dear." She studied her for a moment. "You think you seen one?"
"Last night. On the beach."
"Mm-hm." She sipped the coffee.
"She was in a white dress. It was dark, I couldn't see very well, but...but she looked at me. She sort of, she sort of pointed at me, and then she pointed out at the sea." She paused. "I think it was my mother."
Ms. Abraham frowned. "Why would your mother point out at the sea?" she argued, taking another drink from her mug. "Or be wandering around on the beach at night?"
Ruksenna opened her mouth.
"You listen, dear." She wrapped her hands around hers. "You mother is dead now. You want her to come back I know, but she not gonna." She squeezed when Ruksenna started to speak. "That don't mean she's gone, ok? The dead, they always stay with us, and your mother, she with you. She's in your bones now, helping you stand, helping you walk. You got your own kids, she'll be helping you hold them on your hips, just like her mother did, and just like you will for your children and your grandchildren." She let go and leaned back in her chair. "But she not gonna be wandering around no beach in the middle of the night. She smart enough not to do that shit."
Ruksenna laughed and realized that her eyes were hot. She sniffed. "Well who do you think I saw?" she asked lightly, a little desperate to change the subject.
Ms. Abraham frowned. "I don't know, child. Drunk tourist maybe, looking for some seashells. But promise me this: you don't go looking for no ghosts, my dear." she took another drink of the coffee. "Barbados is a dark island with a dark past. Maybe she just a lost soul, waiting for her love to return, and him trapped in Davy Jones' locker, but maybe not. Maybe she's looking for vengeance, or suffering. Maybe she's looking to harm you." She drained her mug. "The dead is dead for a reason. They're meant to stay that way."
"I guess you're right."
Ruksenna took the road to the compound that evening and several after, adding almost a mile to her bike ride. But when she had forgotten the chill she had felt along her spine, she decided that it was one thing to be afraid of the water and another to be afraid of the beach, so five days after she saw the figure she rode back to the compound along the beach path again. She was late getting out of town this evening, and she pedaled quickly when she was between the clusters of bungalows, desperately keeping her eyes off the beach. Something caught her eye, though, and she ventured a quick glance towards the moonlit water. She looked back at the path to see a white figure standing directly in front of her, about twenty feet away. Ruksenna screamed and braked hard. She kept her eyes shut until the bike had stopped, hoping it would disappear, but a dead, emotionless face stared back at her, arm raised again, hand limp. Again the arm swept out towards the water. Again the hand slowly uncurled until it pointed weakly. It turned back to her then and whispered. Then it was gone, and she was left cold and hyperventilating. Follow the path, it had said. Follow the path. Alex was standing when she banged the door open, and she wrapped her arms around him sobbing, and couldn't explain what had happened until he had laid her in bed and promised that everything would be ok, and she was safe.
He had the next day off from his research, and she decided to cancel her two scheduled appointments and leave her little shop closed, so together they went out to lunch, and then Alex forced her to come for a swim with him in the afternoon.
"You know you're ridiculous," he said swimming away from the boat. "Here you live on an island and you're afraid of water."
"I am not afraid of water, Alex!" she argued, paddling after him. "I am afraid of barracuda, and rightly so."
"Well, there aren't any by the reefs, so you'll be safe."
"You are lying, Alex! That is exactly where there are barracuda. And octopus! And squid!" she shouted, as he distanced her with his long strokes.
"And sharks!" he shouted back. "And sea slugs!"
"Are sea slugs dangerous?" she asked catching up to him.
"Terribly."
"Reefs are horrible things, Alex. I think the government should destroy them all."
"You are the cruelest of souls, Ruksenna."
"I think they are worst sort of plant on this earth."
"PLANT!" Alex shrieked suddenly. He clutched his chest and sank into the water. Ruksenna watched to make sure he did not use this dramatic show of pain to try and pinch her. After a moment he lunged, but she slipped away deftly with a giggle. He lept up for air and pulled his goggles off to push back his hair. "Coral is not a plant," he said.
She knew this, but said, "Yes it is."
"No! Coral is actually a collect of organisms that grow off of one-"
"It is silly to make things up like this."
"That grow off of one another. What you see is all the tiny organisms together, and the structure formed by the calcium deposits they leave when they are dead."
"Calcium deposits," she repeated scornfully. "Please do not lie, Alex, you are a bad scientist."
"You tear out my heart, kid, calling my sea slugs bubblegum wrappers and me a bad scientist." He wrapped his arms around her waist and forced her beneath the surface of the water.
When they were getting hungry, they climbed back into the boat. Ruksenna toweled off her hair, and stared at the shore for a moment, watching the tourists tan on the beach.
"What would I do without you, Ruksenna?" Alex asked as he put on his shirt and shoes.
"Play poker more often," Ruksenna said without turning.
"Write articles about sea slugs."
"You already write articles about sea slugs."
"Yeah." Amid the loungers and drinkers and tanned bodies playing sports there was a woman standing still, staring at the sea. Her white dress was pulled with the wind. "I love you."
Her arm was outstretched, and her hand slowly uncurled until it pointed weakly at the horizon, out to where they floated together on the water.
So, today I am posting a story which I have written for a mini-contest in Brigit's Flame. I was given a restriction of 3,000 words and a thing/place/literary device prompt to adhere to. My particular prompt was henna/coral reef/cliff hanger.
I always look down on those pathetic writers who feel the need to apologize for their work, so let me start with an apology: I know, like, nothing about Barbados other than what I have learned from the three part documentary hosted by Johnny Depp. So I feel bad even trying to write this. (Oh, and i don't know what the hell I was doing with the Ms. Abraham character, but I just pray noone feels offended.) I also feel that I tried to throw way too many elements into this little story, and it sort of fell apart by the end. Oh, yeah, also I could not think of an ending. (Oh, also AlexBond if you read this I apologize for borrowing the first part of your name. I was being a loser and wanted to play up the whole Alexander the Great/Roxanne thing.) Anyway, so in conclusion, I will not be putting this down as some of my best work, nor will I try to revamp and publish it later. HOWEVER, please let me know what you thought of style choices, language, flow, character development, and all that stuff. Comments and crtique always help me to know what I can do better going forward. =D
henna/coral reef/cliff hanger
Ruksenna ran the point of the mylar cone over the American woman's hand, listening to her chatter excitedly about the things she planned to do during her stay.
"Yes, yes, the turtles are beautiful..." she said, carefully tracing a design passed down to her through centuries of teaching. This woman would drink every night. She would go back to New York City with stories and photographs and a suitcase of memoribilia. Ruksenna drew the circular patterns steadily, imagining that they were already there on the skin, and she was simply going over what some other artist had done before.
"Will you see the coral reefs?" She asked to her own surprise.
"Yes!" the American replied, and Ruksenna felt the hand spasm with excitement. "Oh God, I can't wait! We're having a snorkeling lesson on Tuesday, but I think I'm going to go on my own tomorrow when we get back from the hike, before we go out to dinner."
Ruksenna nodded. "Very beautiful, the coral reefs. Very dangerous. My boyfriend works with the reefs."
"Dangerous?"
"Mm-hm, octopi and crustaceans and barracuda...Don't let a barracuda come near you. They don't attack, but if they did..." She shook her head, remembering the night she had gone out to the reef with Alex, the eye glistening quietly in the darkness, a darkness itself, sleek and terrifying. The mylar cone slipped, but not badly. She said nothing and continued the pattern, knowing the mistake would hardly be noticeable when it was complete. She considered telling the woman the trick of giving the barracuda something to bite down on that wasn't you, but decided against it.
Instead she told her of a few nice places to see the sunset and local foods to try while she was in town. When she was finished wrapping the hands and taking the American's credit card, having heard in detail the elaborate schedule this tourist had laid out for herself, she added, "Don't forget to relax on the beach." The woman left laughing.
The sun was setting as Ruksenna closed the door of her cramped little shop and locked it. The streets of Barbados were cooling finally after another long, hot day. For a moment she stood on the doorstep, feeling the town gently awaken with the evening. She could already hear the calm breathing of a flute, maybe from a rooftop a few doors down. Evenings were the beginning of something in Barbados, even if they were the end of the day. The drums would start soon, and the parties and drinking and laughter and singing, and the ground would shake sometimes out as far the beach and even the reefs, traumatizing Alex's fish and sea slugs. But for now there was only the quiet closing of shops and opening of heavy wooden doors, Ms. Abraham humming a low tune as she swept her step, the cyclists and taxis zipping by. Ruksenna took in a deep breath and unchained her own rusty blue bicycle, climbed on, and began pedaling her way towards the marine science compound, her safron scarf fluttering.
There was a rocky trail running along the coastline, connecting the roads that led from Bethshaba to St. Mark's, where the compound stood.
The sun fell swiftly behind the hills as she rode, and Ruksenna found herself pedaling in the darkness of the east coast of the island. The color had left the world, and the sky and water were different shades of a vast grey-blue, and the sand was white. She was afraid of riding in the dark like this, afraid of ruts and broken glass and things she couldn't see, afraid of the criminals Alex swore lurked behind every corner to assault her, afraid of the sea. She slowed down, listening to the waves crash rhythmically close by, watching the endless body of water that surrounded her as closely as she watched the path. Despite everything she understood about geography, she sometimes wondered how such a great thing could resist devouring this little island, and at night, she believed it felt the same way.
Now as she peddled slowly she realized that she could see a woman walking alone on the white beach. She slowed down further while she was still a few yards away, trying to decide if she was wearing a sundress or a towel. There were bungalows close by both up and down the beach, but it was still unusual to see a woman alone when it was getting dark. She looked lost. A chill ran down Ruksenna's spine as she pedaled closer, and she shivered suddenly. She was about to yell, to ask the lady if she needed any help when she stopped walking. Ruksenna braked immediately. For a moment the woman stood looking at something, the sea or the sky or the sand, Ruksenna couldn't tell. She wore a dress, but it wasn't a sundress at all. It was white, and tattered looking, pulled out to sea on the evening breeze. She turned slowly and looked at Ruksenna, the eyes, far away still, meeting her own. The woman raised a hand, her arm outstretched first towards Ruksenna, and then, in a sweeping gesture, out across the water. She pointed a finger then towards the empty horizon. Ruksenna waited. The figure turned and continued walking. Ruksenna waited still, waited until she had disappeared, dark hair blending with the crashing waves, white dress with the sand. Then she began pedaling furiously and didn't stop until she was in front of Alex's apartment.
"You look upset," he said without looking up from his laptop as she walked in. She helped herself to a cup of tea from the tiny stove, and sat across from him. She looked at the reports and graphs that covered his table, and finally set her cup on an old newspaper.
"How are the seaslugs?" she asked.
"I got a great photo today. Not the little guy I was looking for, but it's a good one. You know that National Geog-Are you all right?"
She shot a careful glance into his frowning, scientific eyes and and turned her face to the wall. "Fine," she said. "You would laugh."
He leaned back in his chair. "Most likely, but you haven't given me the opportunity yet, have you? Maybe I'll be concerned or angry or impressed. Maybe I'll want to do a study of it. Really, Ruksenna, you don't give me any credit." He leaned forward and pretended to type, but she knew he was listening.
"I saw a ghost tonight," she said quickly.
He left his hands hovering over the keyboard, and looked at her. "A ghost?"
She nodded.
"Where?"
"On my way here. On the shore in that space between the bungalows."
He raised his eyebrows, just barely. "Are you serious? You're serious. You saw a ghost." He took in a breath. "Are you sure it wasn't some drunk tourist, or a, a, you know, a bird or something?"
"She pointed at me, Alex. She pointed at me and then she pointed out across the sea. I felt cold. She was dead, Alex. I could see it in her eyes."
"Um." He rubbed his face and then the back of his neck.
"Do you believe me?"
"I don't believe that you're lying. Does that count for anything?"
Her mouth twisted. "Yes it does," she said. "Show me your beloved sea slug."
He brightened. "Well, he's not my beloved sea slug. I still haven't gotten a photo or anything of him. But I know he exists, and I'm going to prove it."
"To National Geographic."
"Well to the wor- ok yeah to National Geographic."
She gave him a triumphant little smile.
"Sea slugs are really interesting, ok? They're cool."
"Oh I'm sure."
"Do you know what the wikipedia page for a sea slug looks like?"
"I do not know what a wikipedia page looks like, Alex."
"Ok, well anyway, check out this photo I caught today." He dug through a few loose papers and came up with colored print-out of a strange light blue blob floating on the bright coral. Ruksenna theatrically raised an eyebrow, despite her fascination.
"It's called a red-tipped sea goddess."
"Alex, this is a gum wrapper."
"It is not a gum wrapper!"
He reached for the paper, but she snatched it away. "It is a gum wrapper, Alex," she said, holding it away from him, "and I am putting it in the garbage where it belongs."
"Give me my picture back!" he cried. She only cackled and kept it away from him, and didn't return it until he promised to take her out to dinner.
Ruksenna was thinking of Pakistan the next morning as she traced an ancient design onto another foreign hand, and of her first lessons in henna on a chipped tile floor there. She had not seen that land since before her mother's death, three years ago, and even when she visited, it had never been like going home. She wondered what her parent's family would say if they knew she was living with a white man, or rather she knew, and wondered how much they would say of it to her. For a moment she thought of the mysterious desert city where she believed God resided, where grown men cried and the most modest women furiously pelted Satan with stones, where she would likely never visit. Lightly touching the tip of the cone of mylar paper to white, tanning skin, she remembered whirling in her youth, chanting "Bismallah ar-Rahmain, ar-Rahiim." She knew the secret within annihilation of annihilation as the purpose of annihilation, she knew to let go and become a moth, incinerated by the flame of Allah, but an incinerated moth could not remember its dead mother, could not remember her large brown hand tracing the patterns long ago.
This tourist was displeased with Ruksenna's lack of conversation, and left a small tip. This Ruksenna didn't mind, exactly, as she had slipped a few times, and the design had come out uneven.
After she left Ms. Abraham came in saying, "Brought you some eggs, dear."
"Thanks!" Ruksenna said, hopping up to pour her a cup of coffee. She always had some ready when she knew Ms. Abraham was coming.
"Mm-mm, my girl, you look worn today. That white man's not keeping you awake, I hope."
She laughed. "No, I promise you."
"Well, that's a shame I suppose."
Ms. Abraham usually swallowed her cup and left, but today they sat down across from each other with their mugs in front of them. "Do you believe in ghosts?" Ruksenna asked.
"Oh, yes, I do, dear." She studied her for a moment. "You think you seen one?"
"Last night. On the beach."
"Mm-hm." She sipped the coffee.
"She was in a white dress. It was dark, I couldn't see very well, but...but she looked at me. She sort of, she sort of pointed at me, and then she pointed out at the sea." She paused. "I think it was my mother."
Ms. Abraham frowned. "Why would your mother point out at the sea?" she argued, taking another drink from her mug. "Or be wandering around on the beach at night?"
Ruksenna opened her mouth.
"You listen, dear." She wrapped her hands around hers. "You mother is dead now. You want her to come back I know, but she not gonna." She squeezed when Ruksenna started to speak. "That don't mean she's gone, ok? The dead, they always stay with us, and your mother, she with you. She's in your bones now, helping you stand, helping you walk. You got your own kids, she'll be helping you hold them on your hips, just like her mother did, and just like you will for your children and your grandchildren." She let go and leaned back in her chair. "But she not gonna be wandering around no beach in the middle of the night. She smart enough not to do that shit."
Ruksenna laughed and realized that her eyes were hot. She sniffed. "Well who do you think I saw?" she asked lightly, a little desperate to change the subject.
Ms. Abraham frowned. "I don't know, child. Drunk tourist maybe, looking for some seashells. But promise me this: you don't go looking for no ghosts, my dear." she took another drink of the coffee. "Barbados is a dark island with a dark past. Maybe she just a lost soul, waiting for her love to return, and him trapped in Davy Jones' locker, but maybe not. Maybe she's looking for vengeance, or suffering. Maybe she's looking to harm you." She drained her mug. "The dead is dead for a reason. They're meant to stay that way."
"I guess you're right."
Ruksenna took the road to the compound that evening and several after, adding almost a mile to her bike ride. But when she had forgotten the chill she had felt along her spine, she decided that it was one thing to be afraid of the water and another to be afraid of the beach, so five days after she saw the figure she rode back to the compound along the beach path again. She was late getting out of town this evening, and she pedaled quickly when she was between the clusters of bungalows, desperately keeping her eyes off the beach. Something caught her eye, though, and she ventured a quick glance towards the moonlit water. She looked back at the path to see a white figure standing directly in front of her, about twenty feet away. Ruksenna screamed and braked hard. She kept her eyes shut until the bike had stopped, hoping it would disappear, but a dead, emotionless face stared back at her, arm raised again, hand limp. Again the arm swept out towards the water. Again the hand slowly uncurled until it pointed weakly. It turned back to her then and whispered. Then it was gone, and she was left cold and hyperventilating. Follow the path, it had said. Follow the path. Alex was standing when she banged the door open, and she wrapped her arms around him sobbing, and couldn't explain what had happened until he had laid her in bed and promised that everything would be ok, and she was safe.
He had the next day off from his research, and she decided to cancel her two scheduled appointments and leave her little shop closed, so together they went out to lunch, and then Alex forced her to come for a swim with him in the afternoon.
"You know you're ridiculous," he said swimming away from the boat. "Here you live on an island and you're afraid of water."
"I am not afraid of water, Alex!" she argued, paddling after him. "I am afraid of barracuda, and rightly so."
"Well, there aren't any by the reefs, so you'll be safe."
"You are lying, Alex! That is exactly where there are barracuda. And octopus! And squid!" she shouted, as he distanced her with his long strokes.
"And sharks!" he shouted back. "And sea slugs!"
"Are sea slugs dangerous?" she asked catching up to him.
"Terribly."
"Reefs are horrible things, Alex. I think the government should destroy them all."
"You are the cruelest of souls, Ruksenna."
"I think they are worst sort of plant on this earth."
"PLANT!" Alex shrieked suddenly. He clutched his chest and sank into the water. Ruksenna watched to make sure he did not use this dramatic show of pain to try and pinch her. After a moment he lunged, but she slipped away deftly with a giggle. He lept up for air and pulled his goggles off to push back his hair. "Coral is not a plant," he said.
She knew this, but said, "Yes it is."
"No! Coral is actually a collect of organisms that grow off of one-"
"It is silly to make things up like this."
"That grow off of one another. What you see is all the tiny organisms together, and the structure formed by the calcium deposits they leave when they are dead."
"Calcium deposits," she repeated scornfully. "Please do not lie, Alex, you are a bad scientist."
"You tear out my heart, kid, calling my sea slugs bubblegum wrappers and me a bad scientist." He wrapped his arms around her waist and forced her beneath the surface of the water.
When they were getting hungry, they climbed back into the boat. Ruksenna toweled off her hair, and stared at the shore for a moment, watching the tourists tan on the beach.
"What would I do without you, Ruksenna?" Alex asked as he put on his shirt and shoes.
"Play poker more often," Ruksenna said without turning.
"Write articles about sea slugs."
"You already write articles about sea slugs."
"Yeah." Amid the loungers and drinkers and tanned bodies playing sports there was a woman standing still, staring at the sea. Her white dress was pulled with the wind. "I love you."
Her arm was outstretched, and her hand slowly uncurled until it pointed weakly at the horizon, out to where they floated together on the water.