Magic by the Sea
To the Sea

--

Chapter Five

To the Sea

--

‘I’m losing my patience with you Ryan.’ Ryan spun in the water. The voice echoed oddly inside his mind. He was drifting again, submerged in the cold dark water. The merman was there. A flash of long sharp tail or a tangle of silver hair flicked in his peripheral.

‘This isn’t real.’ Ryan felt the water drag on his limbs. He was conscious of the shell necklace around his neck. It shimmered in the low light of the water.

‘I’ve tried being patient and diplomatic.’ The voice was a growl. Its timbre was melodically low. It almost didn’t match the long flowing hair, narrow face, and high cheek bones of the creature.

‘This is just a bad dream,’ Ryan whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut. He felt cold fingers cup his face.

‘If you want to protect your family and keep your secrets then you will come to me. This is real Ryan. Look at me.’ Ryan tried to shake his head but the grip on his face turned painful. Ryan opened his eyes. The eyes in front were more sharklike than anything. Cold and dead looking. There was no compassion, no understanding. Nothing human.

Ryan kicked out. His foot collided with thick muscle. The sharp scales cut the top of his foot. The face of the creature twisted into a snarl, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

‘Fine. So be it. I will break you just like I broke your father. Just know that what happens next will be entirely your fault.’

--

Ryan sat bolt upright. His shirt stuck to his back with cold sweat. He threw the blankets off himself and turned on his lamp. The top of his aching foot was raw and bleeding from a few scrapes. It was still an hour or so until dawn, but Ryan dared not go back to sleep. He yanked the shell necklace off himself and threw it violently into the bin, burying it under rubbish so he wouldn’t have to look at it. He sat on the edge of his bed, shaking.

Scared.

He was scared.

People have flashes in their life when they get scared. A knock at the door at an odd hour, a look from an unfriendly person down an alley, looking around to replace yourself lost. This was a kind of sickening fear and Ryan didn’t have the slightest idea what to do. It was madness. Complete madness. He couldn’t talk to his family about it. What would he say? What could they do?

What was going to happen to him?

Grandpa Jo was always the first one up in the house. Jo considered it a call back to his long days in the navy. Even Tyler was pretty good at sleeping right through the night. Jo was shocked, therefore, when he rounded the corner into the loungeroom to replace Ryan sitting up stiffly in the armchair.

‘Ryan?’ Ryan started nervously. His eyes were a little bloodshot and he had his legs tucked in close.

‘Couldn’t sleep.’ Ryan’s voice was a little raspy.

The old man frowned. ‘Bad dreams?’ Ryan nodded. He looked off, jittery almost. His eyes darted from the window and its drawn curtains to the hallway that led to the front door.

‘Come into the kitchen and we’ll make some tea,’ Grandpa Jo said eyeing his grandson with some concern. Ryan followed woodenly and sat on one of the bar stools whilst Jo boiled the water and collected cups.

‘Grandpa, do you remember the stories you used to tell me about the magical creatures that lived around the islands here?’ Grandpa Jo stood up so fast from the refrigerator he nearly smacked his head on the overhead cabinet. He put the milk on the bench and stared at Ryan, brow furrowed.

‘Yes. That was years ago. Why?’ He watched Ryan shift uncomfortably.

‘Were they ever… based on a true story or anything like that?’ Ryan asked. Jo took a minute to pour the hot water into the cups with two tea bags. He added milk and a little honey to Ryan’s cup and stirred, the spoon clinking merrily against the porcelain.

‘You could say that almost any story is based on some real event or another.’

‘What about pirates?’ Ryan asked. He took his cup, using it to warm his hands. Jo gave him a boyish grin.

‘Well yes. The waters around here are rather well known for pirates historically speaking.’ Ryan was watching him with sharp intensity.

‘As for the magic islands and all that well that came from an old urban myth that the pirates used to stash their treasure on a few of these smaller islands. Supposedly they spread tales of ferocious sea monsters to chase away anyone looking to steal their treasure and the legend grew up from there.’ Ryan sipped his tea.

‘And that’s all there is to it?’ Ryan asked thickly.

Jo looked at his grandson. ‘What’s happened Ryan?’ he asked.

Ryan took a long time to answer him. ‘I’ve been having really strange dreams lately. It’s probably nothing.’ He half expected his grandfather to laugh.

‘Dreams can be important,’ Jo said instead, surprising him.

‘Did you know my father?’ Ryan asked.

Grandpa Jo nearly choked on a mouthful of hot tea. ‘Not particularly. He left when you were very young,’ he spluttered, coughing. Was it Ryan’s imagination or was his grandfather not meeting his eyes when he spoke? The old man started to put away the few dishes that had been left in the drying rack from the night before.

‘I know he did but what was he like when he was here? Was he a sailor?’ Yes. Grandpa Jo was definitely not meeting Ryan’s gaze now.

‘To be honest I never spoke much with the man. You really should talk to your mother about it.’

‘Why? Was he a bad man?’ Ryan pressed. Grandpa Jo fumbled with a glass.

‘No. No, not a bad man. Maybe, a careless one. A naïve man perhaps but I think he meant well.’ Jo’s voice had gone rather quiet. Sad?

‘Ryan, you’re up early!’ his mother said brightly as she entered the kitchen, carrying a sleepy looking Tyler on her hip.

‘The kettle has just been boiled if you would like some tea Alice dear.’ Grandpa Jo said. Ryan looked down into his own cup, thinking about everything Jo had said. He wanted more information, but Alice had never shown any interest in talking about Ryan’s father.

‘Chilly morning, how about we cook some porridge?’ she asked. The family bustled about to make breakfast. Whilst Alice and Jo cleaned up the boys went to get dressed. Ryan hesitated only briefly before slotting his two blades into his boots, one on each side. His boots were bulky enough and his pants long enough to disguise the scabbards. Afterwards, Ryan walked his little brother down the road to preschool. The fog had lifted a little, but the air was still dense and heavy. By the time he had said goodbye and walked the road home, his hair was a wet mop on his head and his clothes were damp. He paused at the front door at the sound of raised voices.

‘You need to talk to him. This isn’t a conversation that can wait any longer,’ Jo was saying. Ryan was stunned by the cold seriousness of the tone.

‘There is nothing to be said! Maybe it would be best if Ryan left early to his cousin’s. He could leave on the midday ferry and be there by this afternoon.’ Ryan frowned at his mother’s sharp reply.

‘And leave Tyler behind? You know Ryan wouldn’t do that. Why can’t we just tell him a little? What harm would it do?’

‘Because we promised when we brought him back to this damn island that we would keep him safe!’ Alice snapped.

‘He’s having nightmares Alice,’ Jo said.

‘He nearly drowned! I would be shocked if he wasn’t! He just needs to be away from this place for a while, that’s all.’

‘And what if he gets sick again?’ Ryan frowned. Sick? What the heck were they talking about?! He felt confused and angry. His mother couldn’t just send him away!

‘He won’t,’ Alice said, though she sounded unsure.

Ryan lingered on the front doorstep, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Should he barge in, demand answers? If he had heard this conversation a week ago, would he have been so spooked?

Probably not. He needed some time to process everything.

Ryan turned back to the road and decided to go to the shops. He shoved his cold hands into the pockets of his jacket and plodded on, the gravel crunching under his boots. Mr Bentley was outside his shop carrying a crate of oranges.

‘I’ll get the door for you,’ Ryan offered. Mr. Bentley flashed him a toothy smile.

‘Thanks very much.’ Ryan pulled the door to the shop open and stood aside to let the older man enter. He followed him in and breathed in the smell of fresh fruit.

‘Fresh off the dock this morning. The shop’s a bit of a mess I’m afraid but feel free to take a look around. Mrs Bentley has come down with a nasty cold and hasn’t been able to help me move the stock.’ The man heaved the crate over to an empty spot and set it down with a groan.

‘Can I help? To be honest, I could really use the distraction right now,’ Ryan asked. Mr. Bentley raised a particularly bushy eyebrow.

‘Well, I’m not going to say no to an extra pair of hands. It’s pretty simple. The boxes are laid out in front of the shelves they are supposed to be unpacked onto. Just take a box cutter and have at it. Watch the blade, its sharp,’ he said, handing Ryan the box cutter knife. Mr. Bentley had the radio playing in the background. He turned it up a little so they could both hear it as they worked. Ryan cut open a box and unpacked the cans of mixed beans onto the shelf. It was strangely mediative in its repetitive motions. It gave him time to think. He turned everything over in his mind.

He wanted to be convinced that the dreams were just dreams, that maybe he had just banged his foot onto something the night before to cause the scratches. Except, banging his foot on the round wooden bedpost would have bruised his foot, not scraped it. But the alternative was just too crazy to consider.

Ryan listened vaguely to the news. There was a soccer final coming up. Some new age band had released a new album. Ryan didn’t catch the name. There was also a new scandal as another famous sportsman apparently got into a fight with a rival player in the foyer of a restaurant the night before. Ryan let the babble relax him. An old song from the 80s came on and Mr. Bentley whistled along jovially. Cans of corn, peas, packets of nuts, bags of chips, containers of salt and pepper and small bags of flour, Ryan hadn’t realised just how much he had unpacked until Mr. Bentley tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Quite the firecracker you are. I wouldn’t have gotten half this much stock put away on my own! How’s about we stop for a break and have some lunch?’ Ryan nodded and stood up straight, feeling his back pop in a few places. He followed Mr. Bentley to the back room, glancing out the door.

‘That fog it getting thick again,’ the old man commented with a groan. Ryan looked outside at the swirling grey fog and felt a deep sense of apprehension. They ate sandwiches and hot chocolate to chase the chill from the room. Mr. Bentley eyed him very curiously. He made small talk but could get very little out of the young teenager. He wasn’t used to seeing Ryan so downcast but conceded that there was only so much prodding he could do. Perhaps he could ask Jo next time he saw the man…

Ryan went back to unpacking the few remaining boxes. The bell above the door tinkled but Ryan didn’t bother to turn about. He was straightening the cans of soup on the shelf, turning the labels to face the front. He didn’t hear the sound of shoes on the tiled floor, but he froze when something cold touched the back of his neck.

‘You took off the necklace I gave you. Is this your final answer?’ Ryan didn’t even breathe. He knew that voice was straight from his nightmares.

‘Will you come with me now?’ The… man? Creature? Asked.

‘Stay the hell away from me,’ Ryan rasped.

‘Did you say something there Ryan?’ Mr. Bentley stuck his head around the corner to peer down Ryan’s aisle. Ryan spun around.

He was alone in the aisle. He looked around but there was no one else in the shop. He glanced at the door. The little brass bell at the top of the wooden frame was still swaying slightly. Outside the fog was still as thick and menacing as ever. He glanced down and at his feet were a few wet footprints.

‘I think I should go.’ It took a few tries to get the sentence out. Mr. Bentley frowned.

‘Are you sure?’ He asked. Ryan nodded woodenly.

‘Yeah. I need to get home. The fog might get worse.’ He handed Mr. Bentley back his box cutter.

‘Well… alrighty then. Stay on the road and don’t forget to holler if you need anything. Thanks again for all your help.’ The man eyed him with concern, but Ryan only nodded and hurried off into the fog. Yes, that boy was certainly acting very strange.

--

Ryan practically slammed the front door behind him when he got to his house. He was surprised when Alice came dashing into the hallway. Her face fell slightly at the sight of him. Ryan frowned.

‘Mum?’

‘Have you seen your brother?’ Alice asked, rushing forward. Grandpa Jo came down the corridor after her, wearing his wet clothes and gumboots.

‘Umm, no. I was at Mr Bentley’s shop helping him unpack his delivery today. Why?’ He became increasing nervous at the sight of her tight worried face.

‘Debbie offered to walk Tyler home this afternoon. Jo went to meet them but Tyler ran off into the fog. He said he could hear you calling him.’ Ryan stared up at his mother.

‘What? When was that?’ He asked. He pulled open the door again and both Jo and Alice followed him out.

‘About fifteen minutes ago. Debbie stayed at the school to look for him there. I thought he might have come back here.’ Grandpa Jo said. It was truly shocking to see such worry on the man’s boyish face.

‘He can’t have gone far, which way?’ Ryan called. He was already jogging in the direction of Tyler’s preschool. Alice and Jo jogged after him.

‘Tyler?’

‘Tyler!? Come out little man.’

‘Little Lemur, where are you?’

‘Tyler?’

Their voices carried strangely in the swirling immense fog. They called and called. Debbie came running out of the shadows towards them, her eyes wide with worry.

‘I’ve looked everywhere. He isn’t in the school. Where could he have gone?’ she asked tremulously.

‘What’s going on?’ Trent and his father had heard the yelling and had come down the street towards them.

‘Trent!’ Alice rushed forward, grabbing him by the arm.

‘It’s Tyler, he’s run off somewhere. You haven’t seen him, have you?’ Trent and his father shook their heads.

‘This isn’t like him!’ Alice’s voice was thick with tears.

‘We’ll help you look,’ Trent said.

‘I’ll take the delivery van and scout the road. He may have just got turned around in the fog,’ Trent’s father said. He waved and jogged back the way he had come. In the distance Ryan heard the engine start and saw the gold headlights flick on.

‘Tyler?’

‘Tyler, where are you?’

Just know that what happens next will be entirely your fault.

A single thought pierced Ryan’s mind.

Just one. He turned from the others and began running.

‘Ryan?’

‘Ryan, buddy, where are you going!?’ he heard Trent yell after him. Ryan shook his head to get his wet hair out of his face. The air was so thick and cold it burned to breathe it in. He ran for Point Hut. The same place where he had found the unconscious man in the surf, the place where Ryan had been given that damn necklace. Distantly he was aware of Trent running alongside him. Ryan left the road, his boots slipping in the wet grass. He righted himself and made for that place in the rocks. He could hear the dull roar of the ocean. There was an ice-cold gust of wind and for just one moment, the fog parted.

‘Tyler!’ Ryan screamed. His little brother was standing on the edge of the black rocks, his little fire engine jacket flapping in the wind. He appeared to be bending over, as though he were talking to someone in the water.

‘Tyler come here!’ Trent shouted. Both teens were running flat out now towards the edge. Behind them was the voices of the adults as they came after them. There was a strange moment were the world seemed to slow.

Then, Tyler pitched forward, over the rocks and into the sea.

‘Tyler!’ Alice screamed. Ryan didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even slow down. He got to the edge and jumped.

The sea water smashed into him, cold and rough. He surfaced and spun.

‘Tyler?!’ He roared. Salt water got into his ears and stung his eyes.

‘Rye!’ A terrified cough that could only be his brother. Ryan struck up hard, kicking. His boots and jeans weighed him down. He hadn’t taken the time to remove them before diving in. He could make out his little brother. Tyler was paddling as best he could to stay afloat in the choppy water. Ryan swam forward. He would not lose Tyler.

Ryan grabbed hold of him by the waist. His little brother coughed and spluttered.

‘Hold onto me,’ Ryan shouted. Tyler’s small hands wrapped around his neck. Ryan swam back for the rock shelf. Water splashed over their heads. It was very slow going, his little brother was little more than dead weight. Alice was frantic. She got down on her knees to grab hold of Tyler as they got close.

‘Take him,’ Ryan spluttered, desperately trying to tread water with his brother’s added mass.

‘Rye!’ Tyler wailed. He wasn’t letting go of Ryan’s shirt. Alice, Debbie, and Trent grabbed at them. They were pulled onto a low shelf.

‘Tyler why?’ Alice sobbed, finally pulling the crying boy into her arms.

‘He told me to come.’ Tyler wailed. Ryan was still coughing up the sea water he had swallowed. He was gasping for breath. His legs were still being tugged by the dark churning water as he sat on the rocky shelf chasing oxygen.

‘Who told you to come darling?’ Alice asked. Tyler shook his head, sobbing. Ryan winced in pain. Something silver flashed in the water. He looked up, squinting.

‘Mum-’ Something grabbed hold of Ryan’s ankle and tugged hard. With a yelp he was wrenched back into deeper water. His back and arms scrapped the rocks. His head smacked hard against the shelf. He vaguely heard several screams and shouts as he was fast pulled out into the ocean. His last view of the shore was his little brother’s tears and his mother’s terrified face before the waves swallowed him whole.

--

END

--