Here is my entry. I have publised a version of this story before, but I have tweaked it for this blogfest. It is an extract from which much has been cut for brevity.I hope it still makes sense.
She needs to face her fears.
Here it is, the beach house, its timbers broken and exposed. Years of relentless tides have eaten away at its foundations. It now teeters on the edge of the dunes, on its knees in the sand, ready to surrender to a king tide.
But today the ocean holds no threat, its gentle waves lap the sand, leaving a trail of silvery froth and grit. She falls to her knees onto the silky sand, her body hunched over. Memories of that night come rushing in with the force of a tidal wave.
At times she almost forgets why she has been running away from her memories for so long. But the mind holds onto things, remembers things best forgotten. Here today, confronted with the crumbling house, her mind is searching its dark recesses, unearthing hidden secrets which she thought buried. Through the years in her silent moments, she had heard it speaking so softly in the gentlest of whispers, as it tried to speak to her of its memories. Then there were other times where her pain had come rushing to the surface without warning, hurtling through her like a runaway train, threatening to derail her altogether.
She cries there, hunched in the wet sand. She no longer wants to carry that heavy sharp stone of hurt.
The Pacific waters swirled and fell in a dance of wave and tide. Then the winds calmed and the moon rose and sat outside her window.
She’d been dreaming of the sea as she did every night. This night, she opened her eyes and watched the moonlight creep across her bed like a lover’s soft caress. The sheets were tangled and fell over the bed like waves. She kicked off the covers and threw herself across the bed like a marionette without strings.
The moon’s light overlooked the angry welts criss-crossing her legs. The welts throbbed, but she had no ointments to ease the pain. But that was his intention.
There was a big storm earlier in the night and now the rain starts again. It will cover her tracks. She hasn’t been able to communicate with Ahmed but she is not afraid.
She knows he waits for her beyond the dunes.
The sea calls to her. The open window draws her into the night. A soft swish and she is swimming for her life in the treacherous waters, her robe tangling around her knees, threatening to drag her under.
Her bare feet find sand at last. She straightens and runs towards the trees, her sodden robe tripping around her ankles.
Ahmed whispers her name.
He knows the tears are healing, making her whole.
“My brave girl,’ he whispers.