The Monster In Still Waters

I've always been in awe of the sea. Right in front of my eyes, the sea draws in as I breath in and then with a power that frightens it moves away, propelling our boat further as if alive. It's a giant living monster with ships clawing at its belly. Even now, I feel the weight of the water as it laps at our boat hungrily.

With each swift lift of the wind, our boat shudders, quaking like a leaf in a storm and at the same time the thin, veiny hand on my wrist tightens a smidgen more.

I want to tell my mother to loosen her hold on my hand, that she's hurting me but my tongue is frozen in my mouth and my eyes are fixed on the ship hurtling towards us, vast and monstrous compared to our small boat, as it nears.

Father is too lost in his prayers to speak as his gaze fixes over the vast sea and then his eyes latch on the same ship as me. This sea can swallow mountains and cities if it has a mind to, and our small boat in this unchartered water will be nothing if it has a mind to drown us. Maybe it knows what awaits us is worse. Though the sea is not angry right now, it's calmer than it was last night in the storm; still my mother does not sleep.

The calm terrifies her more; right now, everything terrifies her.

Don't fear Ami please. I want to speak. Loosen your hand on my wrist and go to sleep and I'll keep watch over the few belongings we brought with us as we ran. This is the first time I've stepped out of my village and though the journey terrifies my mother, it gives me a feeling of exhilaration as if I've snapped unseen ropes and clawed through dirt to breath in air that is not split with the sound of a fired gun.

The thought of a new country excites me. I have a love-hate relationship with my hometown-it taught me to fear before it taught me anything else. The fear kept everyone in the village alive as we worked in the thick of the winters, digging underneath the bottom of the mountains, clearing foliage to uncover fresh dirt and the herbs that we put into our tea to cure our illness. The doctor comes only once every six summers and even then, visits are sporadic and only able to be afforded by those who can pay for the privilege.

I have this trust in the calm waters, and in this vast sea that cradles our barebone boat. It won't swallow me, I tell myself even as I know the stories I've heard, of giant ships rammed into icebergs and broken into smithereens, of men drowned never to resurface, of sirens with razor- like teeth luring men away and of bones, clearly human, washed ashore.

The last story is clearly a tale told to keep the children away from the rising water levels during monsoon but my idle mind has latched onto the images conjured by my bored mind- of monsters that roam freely through the water. I kneel on the edge of the boat and look down, trailing my gaze over the surface.

I stare until I see something dark and agile move strongly against the currents. Eyes, as dark as midnight stare up at me and I gasp. I jerk back afraid. I clench my eyes shut and tell myself it's all in my head. The stories I've been told to fear the sea are about monsters that others do not see and because in my world there is so much to fear, I'd rather not agitate myself over the prospect of something I didn’t spot clearly.

Seconds later, the boat rocks almost unbending us from the bowels of the boat, and I clutch the edge trying to get my balance back.

The sailor pushes our boat against the currents towards the large ship hurtling towards us. An alarmed murmur spreads through the people in the boat. As the ship nears, the captain's eyes are fixed on me- it's the man with the paddle. Since he does the most work of pushing the boat through, by all accounts he's the captain. He also keeps us calm.

''Jump!'' he screams at me in Syrian; his voice is harsh and gravelly, aimed not just at me but the other two children in the boat too. ''They'll pull you up! They won't let children drown. This is our only chance.''

My heart beats a tattoo of fear in my ribcage, and terror makes me go still as I look at him again. I don't move. There were other ships that came throughout the days as we journeyed on sea and despite our pleadings lent us a deaf ear. We are not welcome in their pristine countries with all our baggage and emotional damage. We have survived things that should have killed us- yet the same country that bombed mine looks at my people with revulsion.

What if the life jacket I'm wearing deflates? Not all of them are safe.

When I don't move, his mouth curls; he scowls down at me. He grabs me by the front of the life-jacket and hauls me closer to the edge. He ignores the screaming of my mother and the frightened noises I make in the back of my throat.

Before he heaves me over the edge his eyes bore into me, willing me to understand.

I understand nothing, I want to scream at him.

''This is the only way.'' His tear-filled eyes soften and he begs my forgiveness. Then he drags me up and throws me at the mercy of the ocean.

A wave puts me under instantly and for a moment I feel the weight of the water over my head as I claw my way up to air above me. Blessedly the life jacket pulls me up and I float on the surface.

I look around me at the boat where my mother weeps in her fists, her lips still moving in prayers. I cannot swim, but I still try to swim towards the boat, but the currents are all wrong and any progress I make turns futile as the currents work against me.

''Mama!'' I scream, but the boat flows farther and farther away.

Something wraps around my ankle and pulls me under again. The flimsy, old life jacket is no help as I go under. I meet the creatures’ eyes and forget to breathe.

It's a shark and she looks otherworldly as she moves effortlessly against the currents. Gills slit the side of it's head, and though he looks at me, he ignores me my frantic movements, moving away. He open his mouth and I glimpse razor-sharp teeth that can tear flesh from bone.

I scream; precious air escapes my lungs as I fight against the weight of the water for air. I duck as he swims past my head and I heave myself up, breaking the surface of the water. I shudder, teeth chattering as I look around me, frightened. There is nothing. The shark is gone.

I don't have to ponder long as I hear shouts above me and rope flies over my head. I look up and see them: men and women shouting on the giant ship staring down at me, their faces slack with shock. A man takes off his jacket and then jumps into the water beside me. He pushes me towards the landing that awaits and towards the ship.

For a moment I fight against his arms, thinking of my mother. How can she leave me? How will I live without her? The boat has grown small and it's hard to see the people on the boat.

My mother knew they wouldn't take her with them. I remember the sailor’s words as he talked to me with teary eyes. Was this really the only way? Sadness envelops me, numbing me more than the cold.

My teeth chatter as they haul me on the top of the ship and put a dry towel around me, I look up at my saviors with renewed hope, trying to speak one last time.

'’There are sharks in the water. Please, listen to me! My mother is on that boat and she can't swim. We need to pick her up. She needs help.’’ I croak through a dry, parched throat.

They talk among themselves mutedly. I don't see my mother's boat anywhere. Instead abandoned life-jackets float over the surface of the sea.

''She's in shock... Their boat went under...only survivor.''

A woman speaks reassuring words at me in her foreign tongue. I do not understand what she says, but the grim line of her mouth is answer enough: they aren't going to pull my mother up. They aren't going to save her. Tears fill my eyes but they refuse to fall.

They put a towel around me, and give me warm food. I eat without tasting, my mind still stuck on my family. I am thirteen but I feel ancient. The shark didn't touch me- it was no danger, it didn't attack me. In fact it was a human, that took my house and bomb my city and made me homeless. The shark is a misunderstood predator- they don't go out of their way to seek humans and hurt them.

When we embark over dry land, I look behind me one last time to the horizon where a ship sails. Beyond the murky depths, I hear a splash and a long tail flips in the water. I huddle in the towel and hope the remainder of the journey will be easier. I hope my mother will find me one day.

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