by Whitney Zahar
The breeze kicked up a little, dampening my cheeks with a light, salty spray. My bare feet dug into the cool sand, and I curled my toes deeper into the coarse, damp grains. I watched the waves sweep and crash, a grey-blue matching my eyes.
With a deep sigh, I longed to stand in this place forever. To just lose myself in the waves, wind, and sand. But the sky was darkening, a growing heaviness in the air. Almost like. . . a warning, clinging to my skin.
Shivering, I pulled my red beach wrap shawl around me as I turned to walk with the pounding surf by my side. The beach was expansive, nothing but an unending horizon between sea mist and sand. My thoughts quieted under the dull thunder of the waves.
And yet…I didn’t feel at peace. There was a primal heartbeat, but not only in the waves. There was something gathering in the distance…a growing storm.
I pushed my fingers through my wild curls. What odd thoughts I’m having! It was time to return to my solitary beach house for a cup of tea.
I didn’t see him coming at first. There was no one for miles, but suddenly my distracted eyes focused on his figure. The mist swirled around him, as much a part of him as the long, grey coat he wore.
He passed me with a stroke of cool air, like dark grey fog, when he paused, turned, and looked at me. I could just make out his narrow chin and the shape of his eyes. Handsome, even though the mist obscured his features like a faded photograph. His hair hung damp to his shoulders, but there was no color. He had no color. I quickly looked down, relieved to see the vivid warmth of my red shawl.
When he cupped my chin to lift my face to meet his dim gaze, I shivered at his chilled touch. So dark, wet, unreal.
Unearthly.
“I’m happy you escaped the storm, my love.” His voice was soft, but echoed, as though from a distance. “But you must leave now.”
“I’m sorry? Who are you? What storm?” My face was puzzled, but my eyes stung with tears. I trembled with a sense of knowing. Knowing him.
He shook his head, a slight smile curving his dark features. “It’s been so long since I beheld your beautiful face. I’ve craved to see you again. But you must go. Leave the island at once. You’re in danger. A storm approaches. Go!”
I gasped as his fingers fell away from my face, and his form dissolved.
Like a strong wind dispelling the sea mist.
About the Author
Whitney Zahar lives in Virginia. By day, she’s a busy museum educator devoted to local history; by night, she spins tales of hauntings and the past. She’s an avowed history, paranormal, horror, travel, and Dungeons & Dragons nerd, as well as a happy wife, mother, and friend. Her work has been published in short story anthologies by Taipei Writers Group Peak Heat and Twisted Fairy Tales for Adults and the poetry collection Forms of Formosa.
