She decided to meet the voices.
Most people hear the ocean when they press a seashell to their ear, but she heard the water-logged lungs of the dead as they burbled and groaned. There was always something trickling from their bloated tongues.
As a young girl, she would listen to their restless murmurs as they slipped between the bristles of her hairbrush and echoed through the silver enclosure of her compact. The application of make-up became unbearable. If the wrong choice of lipstick shade was chosen, she was obligated to speak on behalf of a murdered child drowned one hundred years prior to her own birth. Her reflection in the mirror would often cast a ghost image.
“My name is Bea,” moist lips no longer her own confessed. “And I hate the sea.”
She was raised on the ocean’s edge. Her father had acquired a small home once owned by a fisherman’s widow. The view from her bay window was of white-capped waves and massive rocks worn smooth by countless millennia of unrelenting breakers. Yet her ears were at constant diversion. Piercing that powdered coast was thousands upon thousands of black seashells whispering from darkness.
“Audra,” one particular clam hissed. “We know you hear us.”
She drew the curtains closed and ignored their casual use of her name.
“Taste my sweet drink,” dripped a sultry voice, swollen with seawater.
Her father was concerned. “A woman washed up on the shore this morning. And I don’t want you going down there to see her,” he warned.
“Why?”
“Because she has your color hair, and you know you’ll only see yourself in her place.”
Of course, she had to go. The unfortunate woman’s red hair was tangled with strands of seaweed, small fish, and urchins. The flesh of her distended belly was pinched closed by the tattered shreds of her blue dress. The locals had encircled her body and were engaged in quiet conversations.
The dead woman simply blinked her milky-white eyes at Audra. “The ocean needs you,” she sighed.
Audra took a step back and realized no one else could hear the voice.
“I need you, Audra,” she continued, and her lips began to bubble and foam. “Come closer,” she begged. “Come closer.”
She ran screaming from the dunes. The locals believed her hysterics were proof of madness. Every coastal town has a lady of the water, some sea hag to frighten the children at campfire tales, and she became the town’s elected witch.
She never married. And after the death of her father, she resided alone in her home, as did the widow before her.
We must all face the inevitable outcome of our own rotted skins.
The widow had thrown herself from the cliffs and was drowned in the ocean depths. She was pleased when Audra asked her why.
“Because we all return to the water, dear,” she breathed through lungs filled with mud and sand.
Audra shook her head, pulled the seashell away from her ear, and dropped it at the shore.
The ocean welcomed her.
Angel Zapata was born in NYC, but currently resides just outside of Augusta, Georgia. His flash fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in Microhorror.com, ShadeWorks, AlienSkin and Anotherealm. He is husband to his lovely wife of two years and is also father of four hyperkinetic boys obsessed with all things ninja.
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36 Responses to “WE COME FROM THE WATER • by Angel Zapata”
Comments
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March 28th, 2009 at 2:36 am
A suitably spooky piece. Nicely done!
March 28th, 2009 at 2:47 am
Hey, Angel! A twofer today — Everyday Fiction and Everyday Poets. Congratulations. Well done at both.
March 28th, 2009 at 2:56 am
Indeed! What a spooky coincidence
What can it mean, Angel?
I loved:
“We must all face the inevitable outcome of our own rotted skins.” How vert apocalyptic and morbid or you…
March 28th, 2009 at 3:19 am
This story’s like a legend. Enjoyed it so much. Thanks Angel!
March 28th, 2009 at 3:26 am
A creepy little piece, very well described–
“The flesh of her distended belly was pinched closed by the tattered shreds of her blue dress.”
Well done.
March 28th, 2009 at 4:16 am
Very nice. For those of you who enjoyed this piece, head over to Every Day Poets and read Angel’s fabulous poem.
March 28th, 2009 at 4:18 am
Fantastic.
March 28th, 2009 at 5:10 am
Beautifully told.
March 28th, 2009 at 5:37 am
Worthless piece.
March 28th, 2009 at 5:48 am
One of the best stories I’ve read here in a long time. Original and evocative. I loved it.
March 28th, 2009 at 6:02 am
Whether or not you liked this story, Angel Zapata has a better one published today in Everyday Poets which is much more worth the reading and I recommend giving this writer a fair hearing by reading it.
March 28th, 2009 at 6:47 am
Very creepy and well written.
March 28th, 2009 at 7:42 am
Good tale of the sea.
–dj
March 28th, 2009 at 7:56 am
Spooky and surreal. Me likey.
March 28th, 2009 at 8:27 am
Deliciously melancholy and creepy. Well done!
March 28th, 2009 at 8:32 am
Really nice creation of atmosphere. Have to say, the ending was a little predictable, but that doesn’t detract from the lovely imagery and mood throughout the piece.
March 28th, 2009 at 1:58 pm
Very creepy, I like it. There’s a tinge of sandness there as weel. Yor writing style is very poetic. Definitly worth a five.
March 28th, 2009 at 4:24 pm
I liked that she didn’t seem to be able to communicate with all dead people, just drowned ones. Tough to get a flash around an entire lifetime and this was done about as well as it could be, though I felt the gaps where I wanted to know more about certain aspects of the story.
The only nit I had was opening line: I don’t quite know what was meant by “meet the voices”. Since it seemed to be tied to the end it didn’t quite make sense to me because the voices were talking to her throughout the story. She sees them in mirrors and the dead girl on the beach talks directly to her, so she’s “met” them a plenty. Perhaps she was going to walk into the sea and join them? Maybe “join the voices” would have worked better. Dunno. Just a little thing.
March 29th, 2009 at 5:28 am
‘Worthless piece.’ eh?
In my opinion comments like this should be removed. They do the site no credit. No reasoning, no justification, nothing to encourage the writer etc, etc.
No piece is worthless. No creative effort can be judged so.
Hopefully the views of others counteract this one dissenting voice.
For me, at times the language is just gorgeous. Very haunting, lyrical quality.
And I loved the way you write the voices Audra hears – they ring true with a subtle, yearning feel.
March 29th, 2009 at 6:41 am
To me, this writing was about someone whom the writer imagined, to whom only the dead speak, whose focus in life, interrupted by the dead voices, is which lipstick color she should choose. She hates her home. Because she listens to the past ((although she was not so much listening as having her lipstick and hairbrushing interrupted, all wish her dead.) (“The ocean welcomed her” )) She chose isolation (“She never married. And after the death of her father, she resided alone.”) This story of a girl is not based on actuality, but on distortion of a feminine “type” which does not actually exist. As I said in another comment, this writer has another story in EDP which obviously is based on the realities of a masculine suffering and not those of unknown women.
Helen -
The voices that you find ring true are only the voices that wish her death on the return trip of the Nina, Pinta, and Santa Maria. A dissenting voice must be heard, not removed. I favor freedom of speech, even yours.
The commentary section is for opinion, discussion, and argument, not for silencing opinionated curmudgeons whom you dislike, or opinions with which you disagree.
March 29th, 2009 at 6:59 am
I want to thank everyone who took the time to comment. There was an overwhelmingly positive response, and of course, I couldn’t be more pleased.
Helen (cc: Roberta)—
I read the comments for every story posted here on this wonderful site. Roberta has remained consistent in expressing her “no-holds barred” opinions. As a writer, when submitting works to a site that provides a forum for readers to comment, we have to prepare ourselves for negative reactions. Although, “Worthless piece,” may not offer the constructive criticism a writer desires or may be prepared for, it is, of course, one particular reader’s sole opinion, and her opportunity to express it. In my opinion, any reaction to one of my works totally thrills me.
Hey, and the general consensus was very positive…so I’m running with that.
March 29th, 2009 at 7:38 am
We need people whose piercing eyes point out horrors, not only beauties and charms. It’s an extra responsibility and one must be very certain that the finger pointing at a possible “someone” is as accurate in its general truthfulness about that someone as horrors regarding people in which we recognize a possible self.
Angel Zapata – Thank you for being there.
March 30th, 2009 at 1:59 pm
How sad, but interesting imagery.
March 31st, 2009 at 2:23 am
I’m sorry Roberta, and I have no wish to fall out over this, but do you really see posting comments as you did on this piece is an example of ”piercing eyes point out horrors, not only beauties and charms.” As you also say, ”It’s an extra responsibility” – I quite agree, and that is my gripe. You here seen to have abdicated that responsibility.
In reply to my views, you do explain a bit more WHY you dislike the piece – could you not have put that on your original post and thus offered us all – and most importantly Angel – some reasoning, some constructive crit, some insight into why you dislike the writing?
I have picked up from this site that you do have forthright, steadfast views, Roberta. Fine – but surely you see that you must be able to back them up, otherwise they become just objectionable, subjective, possibly quite damaging.
What I am saying is views must be argued for, justified, explained. If they are not, then they are worthless…
Angel, you are very gracious. But could I ask which is the comment that has stayed with you longest? I wouldn’t be surprised if it is Roberta’s empty condemnation? And if so, what good does that do you as a writer?
March 31st, 2009 at 5:10 am
Helen Hudspith- It’s the piercing eye of the poet who points out horror, not me the commentor. I put it on the post as I think of it. Read comment 20 at this posting. The poem is written for “staying with,” the comments depend on the poem. This column is not about me; it’s about the poems of Angel Zapata. If you’ve done your homework, you’ve also read his poem in EDP and the attached comments.
March 31st, 2009 at 2:25 pm
Ah, sorry Roberta, but I don’t understand what you are saying. Perhaps we don’t disagree so much, but it’s very unclear to me what you actually mean, so I guess this is not a debate we can continue.
Regardless, I’m afraid I stand by the view that your initial posting on this piece it not justified, and that yes, while you have a right to express your opinion, you do not have the right to do that without justifying it.
I guess if this forum thinks that doing that is acceptable then it’s simply not for me. A shame as I have enjoyed some of the writing & especially the poems on here very much.
And Yes, I have read Angel’s poem – I thought it marvellous – and to my shame I have let this dross lead me away from saying that. Apologies Angel.
March 31st, 2009 at 3:50 pm
Helen Hudspath, don’t let Roberta get you down. Just ignore her as much as possible.
March 31st, 2009 at 4:36 pm
Helen, rest assured that most of us consider RSG’s one line drive-by reviews offensive, just as we find her self-indulgent reconstructions pretentious and tiresome.
April 1st, 2009 at 2:21 am
Thanks Jen and Bob, good to hear.
Hx
April 1st, 2009 at 3:52 am
Jen – Thank you. That is just the right thing to do when one disagrees but does not want to or cannot reply.
Bob – Since so many of the stories are cryptically written, I give my brief synopsis as the context for my comment on the work.
I thought this space was to be given to comments on writing, not making private dates, alliances or enacting arrangements to throw people out of the carpool.
Helen Hudspith – I do hear already. Thanks.
April 1st, 2009 at 4:50 am
RSG, your rationalization for the trash you throw onto this forum is transparently bogus. Please tell me where meaning can be found in your two-word review: “worthless piece.” If you decide to comment on a piece, at least have the common courtesy to state why you found the piece worthless. The author may decide to disregard your opinion as worthless itself, or may learn something from it; in any case, your drive-by reviews reveal you as spiteful and intellectually lazy.
On the other hand, your synopses are insulting to the writers and the readers. No piece is so cryptic that it requires illumination by you. To be frank, your synopses are so incoherent, I have always assumed them the be a sophomoric attempt at humor on your part.
Nobody’s trying to throw you out of the carpool. But, as you feel free to impugn the writers (and readers) on this board, I’ll take the liberty at times of pointing out when you have said something particularly hurtful or foolish. My opinion only, take it for what it’s worth.
April 1st, 2009 at 6:43 am
Bob – I hope your pointing out anything in any of my commentaries will be addressed to the comment on the work under consideration and that it will be intelligent and your honest thought. You are not any more or less entitled to express your opinion about a work, or to disagree with a comment. Many pieces are cryptic. If you disagree with any synopsis offer your own. Have you done any criticism of the works published in this magazine? I have seen from you only criticisms of persons. I remember an early comment: “”Why all the criticism? Why not just say “very nice” or “I like it” and just enjoy it. It’s only a story.”"
April 1st, 2009 at 6:53 am
RSG, I have commented on many, many pieces on EDF. My critique was #16 on this one, for example. My longer critiques occur when I have not liked a piece, as I consider it a responsibility to give the author feedback on what I thought could be improved.
Please point out to me, specifically, when I have criticized a person rather than their writing (or, in your case, their behavior).
April 1st, 2009 at 7:58 am
Bob-This argument reminds me of a poem of my sophomore year in high school:
Oh Zelda, Zelda, riding on Charon’s high chariot,
How can it be that you are fallen, pent among the merely human?
To suffer their slings,
To face their arrows,
I, the warrior, an advant guard,
Will bring them low before you face them,
Their minds but animal farm prances
Compared to the free graces of your arbored charms.
April 1st, 2009 at 9:24 am
This non-response, RSG, is typical of you. Feel free to consider this a personal criticism.
April 1st, 2009 at 5:14 pm
Roberta,
Please consider this a warning. We love it when readers share their opinions, both positive and negative. However, we also want to encourage an open environment where others can also share their opinions.
Please keep your comments focused on the story.