THE WITCH OF SEA AND SAND A Short Modern-Day Fairy Tale By Jennifer Adele

This story is written with gratitude for my husband, Jeff, who loved me enough to take me to the lands my spirit calls home.

Ichtaca was born with two very unique talents. Her first talent was that she could call to the sea and it would respond. She noticed this before the days came when she could even walk upright, merely crawling around on the beach under her parents reasonably watchful eyes. The waves knew how high was too high and what level was just enough water to delight her. The waters kept the sand soft and lose so that it didnt scrape the skin. And, the water kept itself foamy enough so that it brought the sand up over her hands in a gentle coating. Other people noticed this right around the time she went to school and would spend hours after the daily lessons on the beach with her friends. Word spread rapidly of the waves that would listen, that would follow and seem to dance around Ichtaca as though they were mesmerized by her presence. Her second talent was that she could see right into the soul of a person, any person. It was something she could do with no effort put forth at all. Secrets simply revealed themselves to her, unraveling like a poorly spun rug tossed carelessly to the floor. She noticed this right around the same days that she began learning to read and write. Other people noticed this before she had seen her thirteenth summer. Ichtaca learned things long before others seemed to, and she also came to understand early on that some people never learn. They never realized that more often than not folks say one thing while thinking another. She knew that what a person displayed to the world was not who they were inside, not really. Ichtaca learned that no one was trustworthy, and that even the boys who swore they loved her, and even the ones who actually did, still had thoughts of other girls and other passions. There was no person, not a single individual, who had never lied to Ichtaca. Not her parents, grandparents, teachers, or the community elders of the bay town in which she lived. Everyone lied, everyone cheated, and everyone had secrets. She grew lonely as the years passed, as people moved away from her and as she pushed them away. Ichtaca forsook human companionship in preference of the sea that saw her and never lied. The sea whose waves came when called and receded when shed had enough, no questions asked or complaints voiced. And, it was the sea that kept her company the night her parents died in some random boating accident less than a mile off the coast. The ocean had been angry that night and no amount of consolation from Ichtaca could change its mood. She could not soothe the entire ocean, and the waves lapped up at her in a fair warning of this. Ichtaca had warned her parents well before sunset not to go, not to cruise on out there together for the peace and quiet they craved. The waters had been a sanctuary for them to the same extent that they were Ichtacas friend, even her beloved. But, the weather and the elders said there was no cause for alarm that night, and Ichtaca could not seem to get her parents to listen to reason, to listen to her. They simply went on denying her peculiarities as many had started to do with the passing of years. It was easier for a great many folks that way, but it turned out there was a high price to be paid for the easiness. The sea swallowed them. It succinctly ended their journey, or at least the portion of it that they took with Ichtaca. It ate them up like it was one of the many sharks that swam near the reef less than a mile off shore. Ichtaca had always admired the beauty and simplicity and raw starkness of the sharks that controlled the surplus of fish. Shed been fascinated by them more than fearful. Their constant 2

wakefulness and wavelike swimming was the very reflection and spirit of the sea that had taken her parents. It left nothing but an empty, upside down, salt-lined boat to be found late the next day under an unforgiving sun. Ichtaca was barely twenty and parent-less. She was left to live in the small shack of a home her parents had built together. The shack that was nestled in the sheer cliff walls of a small bay that she called home; it was a singular home within a community of nine bays total. The sands were hers in this bay, the caves that appeared here and there were hers as well, the thick tree line of the jungle, too all of it was hers alone. And, the sea made her tears invisible in the sandy surf of this region. Ichtaca was really and truly alone. Years passed with just Ichtaca living in her tiny home, the community pulling away from her more and more until the elders passed and it seemed as though she knew no one and no one knew her. Oh, they knew of her, and the stories grew fantastical and wild after the very last elder passed. They started to call her bruja and said that she could steal a persons soul. There were also rumors whispered in the caves that echoed to her ears of how she could call the sea up and it would swallow you in a mighty and watery gulp. And, perhaps, that part might have been true enough. Perhaps it had all started to become true. People, tourists to the region mostly, got lost in those caves. They were a maze of natural and beautiful and mesmerizing passageways, a veritable enchanted honeycomb. The locals never seemed to get lost, but it did happen to outsiders on occasion, outsiders who didnt know to stay away from Ichtacas bay, and those who knew but didnt care. And, it was during her eightieth summer that Verlene and Bernal arrived. Ichtaca had been on the beach, stooping to collect shells for a loosely woven shawl project in the slowly setting sun, when she heard the echoing voices coming from inside one of the many small cave entrances to her cove. Good job getting us lost, a female voice said. Look, its not like I planned to do this, and theres an exit up ahead anyway. Well get directions back, the male responded. You really think well be able to find our way back in the dark? I dont think so, came a more reproachful albeit cautious tone. Ichtaca crouched low near the surf as she watched her two uninvited guests emerge. It had been a while since the last time, since the last people. And, she had grown tired of the others so quickly. They had been capable of little in the way of service and even less by means of companionship. The couple began walking along the beach, passing by Ichtaca without even noticing her, leaving footprints in the sand as they removed their shoes to walk with greater ease. But, easiness costs. Ichtaca couldnt believe people never learned that. She began scooping up the sands in her hands and ushering grains into two tiny bottles from where their feet had touched, from the indentations of their footprints, their marks. Look! A house! the man exclaimed and pointed to Ichtacas shack. Not much of a house really, the woman grunted, her timbre revealing a deep weariness. She carried a silent and invisible burden somewhere within herself. Lets see if theres anyone there, he suggested. 3

But, the woman stopped dead in her tracks. Wait, she advised. And then softer, wait. What? The man turned to face her. What about the stories we heard in the village this morning? This might be the bay where Oh, stop it, he overrode. Lets just do this and get back before its too late to grab supper. It was a command that he issued, really, and the woman begrudgingly obeyed. Ichtaca hid the bottles beneath the folds of her skirt and stood up to full height a few feet behind them. May I help you? she asked in a tongue not hers, but it was a tongue spoken out of necessity. That necessity had grown over time. Shed startled her two visitors as they turned around to take her in, and she knew what a formidable sight she was to behold. Even for an old woman who had spent a good portion of her life stooping and swimming, she stood stick straight, lean and firm. She hadnt gone very frail with the passing of time. Shed only gained a surface gray of the hair and a typical withering of the skin. Her eyes were the daring blue of the sea she loved so much, an unusual color for her heritage, and the waves that did her bidding most of the time were reflected in her eyes. She saw Verlene and Bernal being drawn in by that. Were lost, the woman spoke to her first. Do you live here? the man inquired more pragmatically, on a mission to get them back to where they came from. I live here. My name is Ichtaca, she revealed, knowing that if the villagers had told them anything it would be her name and to stay away. But, it was already too late for that. Verlene swallowed a large lump. Ichtaca could see her reaction plainly, even in the low light of the retreating sun. She knew. Im Bernal, the man said, stepping in front of his mate. And, this is my wife, Verlene. Were on our honeymoon and were doing the cave hikes when we got lost, he explained. I see, Ichtaca replied. It happens. Those caves are beautiful but confusing. Can you provide us with directions back to town? Bernal asked. I can. But, you wont make it back not in the dark. Verlene slapped lightly at her husbands chest. I told you, she hissed but then displayed a slight protective recoil in her posture. You are more than welcome to stay with me, Ichtaca presented a solution that wasnt and an option they didnt really have. With their sands in the bottles, it was too late for new pathways. We wouldnt want to impose Verlene said, her voice trailing off in an awkward fashion. We dont want to be a bother, Bernal echoed her sentiments. Ichtaca cracked an aged smile, one of surface warmth but with cold undercurrents. What is the bother? she said as if it were a casual thing, as if they werent already in the maw of a monster. Perhaps she had become all the things the bay community folks had said. Their prophecies fulfilled. Im sure you two can make 4

yourselves useful. It is almost time to eat. And with that being all the more she would say, and with nothing more she had to say, Ichtaca made her way past them with strong and ancient strides along the beach, the waters receding to make room for her even as the tide came in. Verlene and Bernal were obliged to follow and made their way slowly to her rickety old shack. Ichtacas shack glowed with a cool fire that cast a pall of gray over the amber hues that lined the walls and splashed out the windows to the darkened sands of a coming nightfall. Wooded and well worn, clean but still smelling of salt, the dwelling was sparse but comfortable enough for Ichtaca. And, it would be made even more comfortable over the days and weeks to come now that she had visitors who could not leave. Verlene and Bernal stepped into the space of her home and had a look around. As they came up the steps to the barren front porch, they then entered the main doorway to be greeted by a hearth space. What was obviously a functional but not fantastic kitchen laid off to the left, and to the right was a table with four chairs and a cot that looked as though it was meant to be a sofa or sitting area. On one of the chairs there was draped what appeared to be a womans loose shawl, half completed; the threads were the colors of the warm, tropical waters under brightest daylight. The cold, fiery glow of the place itself emanated from an unorthodox potbellied stove situated at the center of the main room. It appeared to be a newer addition, possibly handmade. The walls may have once been painted bright colors and adorned with vivid and stylized imagery, but they had not been touched or cared for in many years. And, the sublime sea air had stripped away most of the old and ornate faade. As they entered, Ichtaca closed the old wooden door that creaked in protest behind them. It may have even cried out a weary warning. But, as always, it was too little too late. It is not much, but it is home, Ichtaca spoke proudly to her guests before they could find the time or the words to comment. There is a space in the back that is where I sleep. You are not to go there ever. You do not go there for any reason. The toilet is outside. Verlene and Bernal nodded, their eyes wide with worry and discomfort at the unusual surroundings. Odds were good that like the many visitors before them, the captive tourists who had been mistaken in their daytrips, they had never spent the night in such a place, never lived in such a dwelling. It was meager. It was poor. It was something they werent accustomed to. And, they probably werent accustomed to having no choice either. The effects of the sands in the bottles Ichtaca took to her bedroom straight away were already gaining a firm hold. The effects of Ichtacas spell were rattling around in their guts without name or form or understanding. And, yet, by morning it would be harshly apparent. It would come crashing in on them that soon, as these things always did with an odd mixture of shock and then unnatural ease. People gave up and gave in so easily it seemed, and they paid the price. Let us prepare the meal, Ichtaca instructed and drew Verlene to her with just a slight leading by the arm. It had begun. 5

And, it wasnt long before a simple meal was on the table, the bulk of which Verlene had prepared and Ichtaca had consumed. And as she ate, Ichtaca found her eyes roaming her guests, taking in their very few words and their very many secrets. Bernal had been unfaithful to every woman he had ever loved and especially to those he didnt. This was no shock to Ichtaca. What did surprise her to learn in the dialogue and the silence was that he had also been skimming money from some sort of fund that was there to provide for the poor and destitute, and those funds had helped pay for the lavish trip he and Verlene were on. Verlene was quite a bit different from the husband she had taken but still barely knew. Although it was clear to Ichtaca that her identity was now tied to him, and she knew enough to stay in line since the wedding. What Ichtaca wondered was if it were some maladaptive survival mechanism on the womans part. Verlene had recited vows like a saint on her wedding day but was guilty of a great many lies herself, although most of them were committed to protect the feelings of others or to protect her own through placation. She was however nursing a particularly nasty secret that Ichtaca wouldve preferred to get around but couldnt. This thing in Verlene was so potent, so driving; it may as well have had teeth. Verlene was in love with another man and had been for years, a lot of years; so many that they stretched back through her soul like a thick fiber woven from the very start of the project of her being. They were anchored there with a firm bite. It was a man she could not have. And, her spirit chanted his name to match every beat of her heart. The hearth fire died as the full sweep of night eventually crept over the shack, covering Ichtacas sleeping prisoners in a dark blanket and a restless slumber. Ichtaca sat in her bedroom and peered out the open window, gazing upwards to the countless stars her eyes beheld. She then glanced down at the grains of sand, secret sands, in the bottles she gripped. She started to weave those bottles inside two little linen-crafted dolls one female and one male. She wove her will in the black of night, sealing her two new visitors into their space and into the forms she desired for them. When she had finished, she rose to place the two new figures on a mantle ledge near her own cot. It was time for her to sleep. Soon a new day would dawn. As morning arrived, Ichtacas prisoners were antsy. They wanted directions back. They wanted to leave. Bernal proved calmer than Verlene, who passively refused to help with a morning meal and paced impatiently while Ichtaca consumed more than her fair portion. We really need to get back, Verlene continued with her ineffective pressuring. There will be people looking for us, she lied. There was no one looking for them, and Ichtaca knew it. Bernal had no friends and no family. He had his work and his vices. Verlene had severed ties with everyone who mattered in order to be with Bernal, to be sheltered by him and his ill-gotten, lavish abundance. It had seemed like a sound and prudent move. What family she had was scattered to the winds, and her friends had written her off months ago. Who is looking for you? Ichtaca challenged with a false sweetness about the inquiry. Bernal and Verlene exchanged a look. 6

Well, Im sure if we dont get back to the eco-lodge soon, someone will report us missing, Bernal said logically. I am sure, Ichtaca gave a fragment of an echo that disagreed with him in tone. Yes, so, you need directions. And, Ichtaca gave them directions. She gave them an accurate description of the route back to town. She even provided a pen and blotchy paper for them to write it all down and then waved as they made their way across the sands and to the mouth of the cavernous entrance that theyd come through the night before. It all looked very normal to Verlene and Bernal, but the truth they knew on some level was revealed in each stride that slowed as they made their final approach to go. The horrible millstone of the new reality they bore settled in and held them in place as they made a haphazard attempt to enter the caves only to be weighted down by invisible hands and pressed back. After morning had moved into afternoon, after hours had passed with no detectable sounds other than the ocean waves and the scurrying of feet this way and that, Verlene and Bernal turned around and made their way back to Ichtacas shack to find her sitting on the porch steps as she had been doing all morning. Verlene nervously shoved the blotchy paper with directions into a pocket, refusing to let go but disregarding it all the same. Let us come to an understanding, Ichtaca broke the lack of vocal communication between them. We cant leave, Verlene said in a stream of shrill notes. We cant leave! she panicked and then in her frenzied state, which had no proper outlet, dissolved instantly into a puddle of tears, sobbing into the sands. Bernal bent down to wrap an arm around the shoulders of his crying wife. Is it true? he asked simply. And, Ichtaca knew what all that question entailed. Is it true that she can summon the sea to swallow them up in a single gulp? Is it true that she can see straight into them and know their deepest secrets, their darkest fears? Is it true that she is every single thing the folks in the village had spoken about before theyd left for their ill-fated adventure amongst the caves? Is it true that they cannot leave?... I am afraid it is, Ichtaca finally replied and rose to a standing position, looking old but majestic in the midday sun. She appeared as their ruler, as a sovereign entity, as someone and something that was suddenly far beyond their understanding. And, it left Bernal wondering how neither of them had noticed it before. So, what? What now? Youre just going to keep us here with you forever? Is that it? It was a barrage of questioning tinged with the emerging edge of terror. He was trying to hold it together, attempting to appear in control somehow. Ichtaca let him have that, for the time being. It made the journey far more interesting. I will keep you here as long as it suits me, and then one day you will leave. Ichtaca gazed out to the sea. One day they would certainly leave. She let her mind dwell on that concept as her eyes roamed the waves of the ocean she loved so very, very much. The waters heard her, mimicked her thoughts and began to rise higher, began to move towards her. They roved inland until they climbed so high upon the beach that they slapped Verlene from her misery and forced she and Bernal to seek refuge on the porch nearer to the woman they feared, nearer to the 7

woman they now served. There is a lot to be done, Ichtaca said and bid them to follow her back inside the shack. She had work for them. Without a pause for discussion or a better transition, Ichtaca set them to work with what she considered to be the most basic but also the most important tasks. Her list would grow in the days to come, but for now she was biding her time. Bernal was to tend to her fishing for the day, while Verlene did all the wild crafting, the food gathering by foraging along the cliff walls and the jungles edge. And, both of them were to bring in fresh water from a river inlet. Their first day as Ichtacas captives was spent in labor until it was too dark to do any more. And that night, as they sat at the table with their warden to consume a meal theyd prepared, she spoke. Tell me, Bernal, she opened. Yes, he said, his spirit already cracking under the strain of mere hours of servitude. Ichtaca marveled how with each new visitor it seemed to take less and less time. Was the world weakening so quickly out there? How many women does it take? she put it to him. What? he seemed genuinely lost amid the fatigue he felt in his mind and body. How many women does it take to satisfy you? she clarified with a halfsmile and then glanced at Verlene. Verlene looked to her husband immediately for an explanation, for an answer. And when none was forthcoming, she looked to Ichtaca, who merely shrugged and ate the last bite of food on her plate. Ichtaca was in no hurry. There was no race, no undue pressure to see the threads of their sad and sorry lives unravel. It was better if they came undone gradually, layer by layer of their insufficient tapestry torn asunder because it was a faulty weave to begin with. Bernal, whats she saying? Verlene inquired. Whats she talking about? How the hell should I know, he replied, averting his gaze from Verlene and slowly bringing it back to Ichtaca. What is it youre getting at? Oh, Bernal, Ichtaca sighed and retrieved a half-woven shawl from the back of her chair to work on, to weave together, to create. I am sure you know what I am getting at. It is a curiosity to me. You have loved over the course of your life. You are in love now, with your wife, I suppose. But, it is not enough for you, and it never has been. My question is why? Is your love so thin and so worthless? Is it a number? Is there a number? How many women does it take to make you happy? Bernal leapt to his feet with such speed and force that he sent his wooden chair flying backwards and clattering to the floor. Dont you do this, he growled, practically baring his teeth in the low light at Ichtaca. She leaned back in her chair and kept right on weaving, right on working. Careful, Bernal, she instructed with a razors edge of a warning. Bernal, is it true? Im not enough for you? Verlene gazed up at her husband with newfound worry marring her otherwise pretty albeit tired features. Bernal looked to his wife. Its not that, Verlene. Its just

You swore! You said that if I forgave you that one misstep you would change! Verlene cut him off. One misstep? Ichtaca rang into their conversation, pulling the truth to light whether it wanted to come or not. She tugged on their threads just a little. Verlenes eyes, growing wet with tears, met Ichtacas for a moment to gauge the truth there, that horrible honesty. She then turned once more to her husband. Bernal? He sat in his chair with nothing more to say. He couldnt even answer the silent and deformed questions he had for himself. I gave it all up for you, she breathed a heavy sigh towards him while her heart beat for the man she should have held, should have vowed with, should have been with a long time ago. I gave everything. Probably because it was easier. It is so easy to give everything and then turn a blind eye to receiving nothing, Ichtaca told them and removed herself and her shawl from the table. But, the hour is late, I feel. You should rest for the night after you clean all this up. It will be another long day tomorrow. Ichtaca left them in the low light, in the warm glow with the cool and gray pall, and made her way to her bedroom to consider the starry sky and the linencrafted dolls, to consult with her one true friend, the sea. The next day found Verlene and Bernal very quiet and very strained. Ichtaca watched from one of the windows after she rose. She watched Verlene and Bernal wandering the beach looking for an escape, testing themselves and their perimeter but doing it separately. They were practically at opposite edges of the bay. And, that strain would only pull them apart faster, bring to light more and more lies and misgivings. It would bring to a head all the sadness and the anger and the doubts that both of them carried, that both of them had marked the sands with when they stepped foot onto her beach. Ichtaca summoned the waters inland and brought Bernal and Verlene back to her side. She increased the load they had to bear, increased the labor and kept them apart for it, for all of it this time. After foraging for fresh foods, Verlene returned to the shack where Ichtaca rested on the porch in the brilliant sunlight. She was still weaving away on her pet project, only now it appeared she was adding shells to the portions of the shawl that seemed complete already. She spun the new adornments on very carefully. The sun was dappled and dazzled on her aging skin. It moved much in the same way as when it danced on the ocean waves. And, Verlene had paused for a moment to ponder how a person capable of doing such terrible things could be so loved by nature, could be so ancient and yet extremely beautiful. Ichtaca caught the question in her eyes and then she caught many more. Is there something you wish to ask me? Why are you doing this? Verlene now put that question to her. Ill answer you, if you answer me. The sound of the surf hung between them for some time, and finally Verlene grew weary and sat down in the sand at the base of the steps. Ichtaca waited until Verlenes eyes met hers again. Why are you living a lie?

What do you mean? Verlene pressed with a nervous half-laugh that came from fear only. You do not love Bernal. You love someone else. Your spirit speaks his name with every beat of your torn and tired heart. Ichtaca opened Verlene up before her, whether she wanted to be exposed or not. Her soul was on display. Quickly, instinctually, Verlene attempted to cover it up. I dont know what on earth she started to deny. Robert, Ichtaca uttered. The sounds of the waves stilled until they came to a total stop, forcing Verlene to hear the name and nothing more. Verlene felt the pang of that utterance pierce her chest like an arrow, and she couldnt escape her captors knowledge. Robert, she whispered the syllables for herself so that her lips might be the last ones to speak his name. You know about Robert It wasnt a question. Why are you not with him? Thats very simple, Verlene began. He doesnt want me. He never wouldve wanted me. I see, Ichtaca nodded, knowing Verlene had never sought to ask him, had never tried to gain his company or his acceptance or his love. She had been careful. She had been cautious. She worried about hurting his feelings and even more importantly, her own. It had been easier to never try in the first place, to never have to feel any rejection, imagined or otherwise. Now, you answer me, Verlene challenged as boldly as she dared. Why are you doing this? Ichtaca heard the waves pick up again, coaxing her into a rhythm of release with Verlene. Perhaps it is in my nature to do. It was in her nature to do. It was actually the answer to the very pristine riddle of her soul. Not that Verlene would recognize it as such. Verlene snorted. I shouldve known thats the sort of answer Id get. Ichtaca got to her feet. Truth lives. She summoned Verlene into the shack with the days gatherings and then set her to work on scraping what remained of the old paint off the interior walls. Its time for a change, she told Verlene as the inner work began. Time started to whirl as if in a vortex after that, days and nights all blending together until the dry season grew wet and the jungle edges so incredibly lush that they overflowed towards the sandy bays border. Time mixed itself up in a spiral swirl until there was no sense of self present on the linear spectrum. Verlene and Bernal worked each day until they could work no more. They provided the bounty of food and fresh water, and they toiled to bring the shack to its former and supposed state of glory if such a place could have ever been thought of as glorious. Bernal doubted it, while Verlene kept her doubts, opinions, and thoughts from her husband. And all the while, Ichtaca spoke less and less to Bernal and more and more to Verlene. She had grown tired of the man whose inadequate and insubstantial life built on falsities and fantasies had unraveled far too quickly and without any sense of struggle. Had it not been for her desire to keep Verlene near, Verlene who had started to both fascinate and comfort her, she wouldve let the ocean claim the man. 10

But, something was changing in Verlenes demeanor over the days that became weeks that became months. Something within Verlene was morphing since Bernals secrets where thrust into the light and since she had pulled away from him with nowhere to run and no one else to run to. And, that something stopped her. That something intrigued her and then went beyond. And, this all went on until Verlene found herself identifying with her captor, and she had to wonder if she wasnt experiencing some sort of patented blend of Stockholm syndrome. She also began to secretly admire Ichtaca. Verlene was fond of Ichtacas strength and her penetrating honesty. She was enraptured by her displays with the sea and the secrets she pulled from Bernal until there was nothing more for him to hide because he was nothing more. He had nothing and was nothing at all, not to Ichtaca, not to the primordial ocean. He was nothing to Verlene, too, by the time the torrential rains came. Unlike how she had been with Bernal, Ichtaca preferred to pull Verlenes secrets and sins from her in private, and eventually, one day, she shared something private of her own that Verlene would recognize for what it was. She would sense and then understand the weight. I have loved, Ichtaca said as she and Verlene gathered shells from the sand together only an hour or so after the latest band of storms had passed over them. And, it was then that Ichtaca was pleased she hadnt let the sea swallow Bernal and drag him to the depths. He had taken on most of the daily chores, leaving Ichtaca with Verlene. Verlene being the one person who had nothing to hide, even though she held tremendous depth, and who was incapable of lying to her further. My spirit, my soul whispers its own small list of names to the beat of my heart. Verlene followed Ichtacas gaze out to the horizon. It was easier to talk about those types of things that way, which made them both wonder if it was a better choice than staring eye to eye. What names does it whisper? Verlene asked at long last. Ichtaca looked at her. She looked at her because it wasnt easy, and that made it right. The names of my parents mostly. It whispers the names of the few boys I thought I loved, or did love, or might have loved. Verlene nodded solemnly. Does it ever change? Do you think it can? It changes, Ichtaca assured warily. The list grows longer as the years go by. Even when you think there is not one more name that could be added, the heart finds one for the soul to speak. Verlene handed Ichtaca her shells and saw in that instant the weariness of a woman who was all too human, even if at times she went beyond Verlenes comprehension of it. She saw the exhaustion of another being that had somehow become her confidant, perhaps even her friend. Im sorry for your spirit and your heart, Verlene said softly and wrapped reassuring hands around Ichtacas. Is it always people that are lost to us? Not always, Ichtaca said, finding herself coming undone through the touch of a person shed held captive, treated as a slave, and then thought of as something more. She felt Verlene had evolved, had become greater through her servitude. My spirit also whispers your name. Ichtaca was old and the need for companionship

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and tenderness was more than she could bear. It was also more than the sea could provide. I-I um Verlene couldnt even find words, not in a whisper or in a shout. I do not want to hear what you have to say, Ichtaca shut her down, overrode Verlenes attempt. I am letting you go. You have a whole life ahead of you to fill, and you should fill it with worthy things. I am letting both of you go, she said with such wrenching sorrow that Verlene wanted to grab her in a tight embrace and swear to the strange and frightening old woman who had become her friend that she would never leave. Verlene hadnt come to admit it until that moment when Ichtaca spoke of freedom that shed actually started to build a life in the bay, a life worth living. It was living in a world of harsh truth and plain priorities with Ichtaca. It was certainly more authentic than any attempt shed made elsewhere. But, the moment passed, and it was washed away in the next wave that lapped at the beach. And, Ichtaca turned to take the selected shells back to her shack and her shawl, which was almost done, nearly perfect. Verlene followed closely behind but she felt very, very far away now. It was when they arrived back at the shack and Ichtaca went to take the shells to her private room that they both came to know the twist of fate that had befallen them, that had forced them into a nexus position from which nothing would ever be the same and no new decisions could be made. Decisions were forced. They were presented as a solution that wasnt and as an option they didnt really have. It was too late for new pathways. Ichtaca rounded a corner to find Bernal in her private space, her sacred space, her bedroom. How dare you! she bellowed, bringing Verlene in as well. Verlene hovered in the doorway, attempting to size up the situation, not sure if she should cross the threshold. Bernal stood behind the small cot Ichtaca slept in and was handling the linencrafted dolls that were kept on the mantle, the dolls that could have resembled anyone. But, Bernal had a strong suspicion that they resembled two people held as prisoners in the bay. This is it, isnt it?! You horrid witch! Bernal spat as he retrieved and held close the little male figure from the mantle. He attempted to size it up beyond the obvious. These dolls! Theyre keeping us here! he growled low as he turned one over and over again in his grimy hands. Bernal, dont! Verlene called from behind her friend, causing Ichtaca to turn and catch her eyes, and to hold them. It was merely a split second, but it was enough for Ichtacas cold heart to melt, for her chilled insides, her frigid undercurrent to match the warm exterior of her being. Bernal was a worn and ragged mess of a man, an imposing form that was rabid and practically sub-human. Im going to end this! he ranted on. And, then Im going to kill you! Bernal! Verlene rushed forward only to have Ichtaca shove her back into place. And, just how do you think you will end it, Bernal? Ichtaca challenged. Ill destroy this hideous thing! he said and held the doll up for Ichtaca to see. 12

Go right ahead, she said with a tone of ironic merriment to her voice. You will only be destroying yourself. You will only be ridding us of your terrible company once and for all. You will let me go! he shrieked, not realizing he hadnt held the trump card hed initially thought. Ichtaca let out a roar of laughter that sounded like the surf after a storm. I do not think so. Bernal tossed the little male figure to her and then picked up the female form. Oh, youll do it, he went on, or Ill kill her. Verlene could hardly believe her eyes as Bernal held up her own little doll so high and then threatened to drop it, threatened to shatter the glass he felt inside. Ill drop it, he said unnecessarily. Ill rip this thing to pieces! Ichtaca let forever hang between all three of them. She let a minute expand into a million, into a primordial oblivion so that she could sense Verlene in all of it, so that she could sense her friend, and it may have been the only true friend she had ever known besides that ocean. I will let you both go, Ichtaca said as she let them emerge from the ethereal waters of eternity. I dont give a shit what you do as long as you let me go, Bernal snapped back. I will let you go, Ichtaca reiterated. But, I will let Verlene go first. Like hell you will! I will let her go first or you both die right here, Bernal. You will kill her. I believe you. But, then I will most certainly kill you, Ichtaca explained, tipping her hand. I will end your life, Bernal. I am the woman who will end it. Verlene watched as Bernal vacillated about what to do. He weighed the options back and forth in his brain, over and over on a madmans scale. Fine! he spat. But, you give me your word right now. You have it, Bernal. I will let both of you go, Ichtaca confirmed. Let us go outside and be done before another day ends. As Ichtaca turned and started to move past Verlene in the doorway, she felt young and frail fingers grip her arm. I dont want to leave, Verlene whispered in an unsteady voice, one brimming with a torrent of emotions. It will be all right, Ichtaca assured and patted Verlenes hand. We have come to the end of this part of our journey. And that was all the more the ancient one would speak about it. Carrying Bernals likeness in linen, she moved through the shack, pausing only to drape herself in the shell shawl shed come so close to finishing, to then go outside to the bay. As the three of them stood in the sands near the waves, the waters became calm, and the tide that should have come rushing in was temporarily staid. Give it to me, Ichtaca ordered Bernal and held out an empty hand. Bernal reluctantly handed over Verlenes doll. Try anything Yes, I heard you before. I am sure you plan to do awful things if I do not do as I promised, Ichtaca countered coolly as she clutched at Verlenes tiny figure. She then looked to Verlene. There is nothing more to say. There is nothing more to learn. There is nothing more that should keep you here. Ichtaca undid the binding 13

on the back of the cloth and let the outer form of the doll slip away to reveal a bottle full of beautiful, perfectly white, and flawlessly clean sand. Ichtaca sensed Verlenes shock that nothing happened when the linen of the doll was removed to fall away. Ichtaca smiled at her friend. It is not the outside that really matters, not beyond a certain point. She opened the little bottle and poured the sands back into the bay, releasing them to return from whence they came. You are free, she said to Verlene. But, I dont want to go, the young woman insisted in a voice more broken and all the stronger for it than when she had first arrived. Ichtaca merely smiled again and shook her head. She turned back to Bernal. And now you Ichtaca stripped away the binding, just as she had for Verlene. She let it fall away to reveal the little glass bottle full of Bernals sand. But, his grains were different. A mysterious moisture had caused them to grow mottled and black, and some sort of sick and slimy fungus had grown all along the inner surface. And, with one flawless and precise movement, a simple sweeping of the arm, Ichtaca chucked his sand-filled bottle far out into the ocean waves. And, it sank quickly, as though it were made of lead. The waters began to churn in an unnatural pattern. White foam spit upwards as if vents were cracking in the ocean floor. A mighty moan, a ripping and merciless yawn let loose. Verlene instinctually took a step back as she saw Bernal being unwillingly drawn forward, drawn in. The sea pulled back and away, too, like a cobra coiling and ready to strike, opening its wet mouth to take him all in. But, as Verlenes eyes beheld the awesome and awful display, she suddenly saw another fearful event taking place. The sea was summoning Ichtaca, too. No! Verlene yelled above the raging sounds that were all around her. She tried to race forward and grab her friend by the hand. But, a wave matching Ichtacas very last movements reared up and splashed her back and away, far up onto the beach where she could only see a surface glimmer of the two people left before one final tidal wave crashed forth to take them both far out to sea. Submerged. Enveloped. Swallowed. They were gone. The sea grew still again, and Verlene could hardly believe mere minutes later that any of it had ever happened. The bay was vacant and appeared practically untouched. There was no trace of Bernal. There was nothing left of Ichtaca. That night, the shack held only a very tiny flame of light. Verlene sat at the small table for four contemplating what to do next. Should she stay? Should she go? Would either choice have mattered in the grand scheme of things to Ichtaca, the woman who had possessed two very unique talents?... As night transformed into a renewed morning, and Verlene emerged sleepless from the shack in the hazy dawn, she looked out to the sea and saw a large shape swimming right below the surface. She raced out to the where the waters lapped at her feet, chilled from the rains that came the afternoon prior and the sad night both she and the sea had just endured. It was a night of loss. But, was all lost?... Her eyes scanned the gentle waters until at long last she spotted the unidentified shape again. It was swimming in circles, over and over, there and back, this way and that. And, it was slowly but surely coming closer. 14

When it was only a couple of feet away and dared to come no further, Verlene began a careful and calculated walk into the waters of the bay. Ichtaca? she whispered, and then wasnt sure why she hadnt spoken up any louder. A splash of water from the shape seemed to reply. Ichtaca! she raised her voice and moved into the ocean until she was about waist deep. Ichtaca! she shouted for all she was worth and kept her eyes glued to the giant shadow that was starting to show a definite outline. A fin broke the surface, crested, and then receded. It was a shark. Verlene watched the form of the beast as it swam back and forth some more. She felt herself freeze to the very spot, uncertain if she should make any sudden movements, if she should try to go back, to retreat to the safety of the sands. A fin broke the surface of the water again, the back of the animal rose up out of the waves for quite a stretch. And, it was then that she saw threads that were the colors of the warm, tropical waters under brightest daylight. Distinctive threads that held through a loose weave the beauty of a wide variety of shells found in that very bay. The shark wore Ichtacas shawl. Ichtaca had gone home to a new journey, to become what she was deep down inside, to become what she could be to the waters that loved her. There was no doubt in Verlenes mind that had once held many that Ichtaca had been rebirthed as a physical spirit of the sea. The shark swam away after some time in quiet council, and Verlene couldnt be sure how long shed stood in the ocean for it. The sea made Verlenes tears invisible in the sandy surf of this region. And, at long last she pulled herself from the ebb and flow to grow warm with the rising sun. She shoved her chilled hands in her pockets to feel something scratch at her sensitive flesh, gone raw with feelings. Verlene wrapped her fingers around the thin and frail object to then pull it forth into the bright sunshine. It was the blotchy piece of paper Ichtaca had given her and Bernal on their very first morning at the shack, the paper that had held directions to the way out of the bay and back to the eco-lodge. But, the ink had been washed clean away from Verlenes time in the salty water, and the paper itself was starting to crumble. Verlene was really and truly alone.

Copyright 2012, Jennifer Adele. All rights reserved.

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