The Metaphor

by Izzy Nicolson, Canberra Girls Grammar

To enter the sea or to not? The temptation was crawling down my spine; no, it was slithering through the bones along my back. Chilling: the pull was nothing but chilling as it called for me, my name like a siren on its tongue. It spoke my name on repeat, drawing me an inch closer to the water’s edge with every letter. I tried to step back but it was as if I was a puppet and the devilish blue was the puppet master, drawing me to another destination. From afar, the view was nothing but gorgeous. However, once I was met with the cool breeze and the waves thrashing against the cliffs, the sight before me was frightening. Yet I couldn’t help the feeling in the pit of my stomach that was telling me… just take a few more steps.

The blue abyss thrusted and pulled against the shore; the further I looked out, the deeper it became. Fear crossed my face and I looked back. What was I doing? Then it gave me a final call, a final whisper, a final push. I shouldn’t have taken that last step.

I was dragged in, grasped by my ankle forcefully, making me fall onto the wet, coarse sand. All I could do was grip the yellow grains and hope it didn’t slip through my fingers. However, it did nothing as the sand became liquid in my grasp. It pulled me in with no hesitation for the abyss wanted me, my everything. My legs were now submerged in the cool liquid. I was hyperventilating, my wishes violated. Gasping for air, thrashing my arms around, my clothes were adding to my weight and pulling me down quicker.

The tips of my fingers could not feel the cool breeze anymore, and the rough cliffs that closed off the bay were out of sight. I was alone. I was being yanked down. I was frozen; my body felt numb. I couldn’t move any part of me. I was an angel falling into the depths of darkness.

Yet somehow the darkness was nothing but alluring.

Nauseous was the only way to describe my state. All of my senses were slowly fading. My head was throbbing, water filling my every inch. I watched as the bubbles above began to get smaller. I didn’t dare to open my mouth as I had to keep any chance of surviving alive. I didn’t want to lose hope yet the desire to let go and give in was getting stronger, the ocean’s grasp on me was becoming larger. My thoughts were conflicting each other, some reaching for my will to live and others desperately trying to let go.

Then I saw it, what was pulling me down, what had made me venture to the place of my greatest fear. His dark hair, floating in the water, his green eyes cold and his clothes clinging to his slim figure. It was then that I realised that no one was holding my ankle and that I was free to swim back to the surface. I was able to leave and live another day. Yet I couldn’t look up, I couldn’t look away from those cold eyes. And then he called for me, just like he had many times, just like the siren who pulled me into the darkness.

Oh, if he was the ocean, then God help me, I wanted to drown.