As of right now, I have no prologue to this, because whatever I wrote just didn't fit. So, here's the first chapter of my first story to post on here. I'd really appreciate any help on editing it. Also, the title may change. Anyway, enjoy!
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(Natalie)
I stood on the sandy white beach of Black Callor Island, staring out over the churning crystal waters. My dad owned a beach house on the island and I loved spending my summers there.
“Natalie, come on back. Dinner,” my dad called, his voice little more than an echo from the cabin.
Casting a fleeting glance at the ocean, I turned and jogged back to the log cabin. I could smell the -hickory smoke, and when I saw it twisting away in the sky I knew at once we were having barbeque.
I went inside and grabbed the glasses off the counter, depositing them on the table. Dad brought the barbeque inside and put the plate down. We sat in the wood chair and began dishing out our food. There were chocolate chip cookies I had made the day before, a colorful fruit salad, corn-on-the-cob, and, of course, a heaping plate of barbeque pork.
“So, how are you enjoying your summer?” Dad asked. He asked the same question every night.
“It’s great so far. Are you?” I replied with my mouth already filled with a cookie.
“Pretty good. What do you say we take the boat out tomorrow, maybe go fishing? It’s ready and I’ve been dying to try and catch Nessie,” Dad said, sounding completely serious.
My dad loved making fun of my love of myths, and knew I would instantly retort. “Dad, Nessie is in the Scottish Lock! For Pete’s sake, can’t you ever get it right?” I complained.
He chuckled and bit into a piece of cantaloupe. “Well, I suppose not. But we could still go fishing,” he said.
“Maybe. It all depends,” I said tantalizingly. I loved tormenting my dad with indirect answers constantly hinting at the mischief he seemed so blind to.
“On what?” he asked, completely oblivious.
“I dunno. It just… does,” I said smirking.
***
I climbed out of bed that night, silent as a mouse. I slid into my rubber boots, grabbed my sweatshirt and fled my room.
As usual, my dad suspected nothing, even with everything I had said at dinner. I knew this because the keys to our small motor boat were lying on the table in the same place he’d left them since dinner. Snagging them and throwing on my sweatshirt over my pajamas, I left the cabin and closed the door softly behind me, warning myself to at least try not to wake Dad up.
I ran across the sand, my feet sinking in slightly with every step.
Our motor boat was tied to a log, just a little off shore. I walked out to it and the water rose up to about my knees, making me instantly glad I remembered to wear my boots.
After untying the rope, I lowered the trolling motor into the water and started it up. The boat pulled away from the shore soundlessly, and when I was a good distance from shore, I started up the motor and grabbed the handle on it to steer. Although I doubted
Dad would hear me, I tried to leave the island as fast as possible.
The ocean had always invited me in with a loving embrace, and never once had I hesitated to enter the churning abyss. Nights out on the ocean were my favorite thing, because it gave me a chance to talk to the sky and not have anyone call me crazy.
We had a lantern stashed inside a hidden compartment, and I pulled it out. It was so dark out, with the moon hidden behind a veil of clouds, that when I turned it on, it illuminated everything. And yet, all there was to see were the dark, tossing waves.
Soon I was far away from the island, enough so that all I could see in any direction was ocean and the tiny peaks of the cities poking out of the beautiful array. I was used to seeing city lights faintly on the horizon, hearing the waves slap playfully against the side of the boat, smelling the salty scent of the ocean.
What made that night special was when a pair of dolphins leaped out of the water. Not many dolphins would have been able to survive in those murky depths. But I soon realized that was only the first in a string of unusual events.
The second abnormality came later on that night, when I could just glimpse the moon between the clouds directly above me. Something glided across the water like a fallen star.
I held up the lantern, desperately trying to figure out what it was that was glowing so brightly.
It approached me, getting closer and closer. The light suddenly rocketed over my head. In blind confusion, I stood off-balance. The boat rocked and I fell in the icy ocean with a yelp.
Darkness clamped over my head and I panicked. Had I gone too far? Had the embrace of the ocean turned into the embrace of death?
No. It can’t end like this. I won’t let it!
I struggled upwards and grabbed hold of the side of the boat, sputtering and coughing up seawater. Climbing back into the boat was harder than it looked due to fatigue, nerves and the cold wet chill making me shiver.
When at last I managed to haul myself into the boat, I lay in there for a second, before finally propping myself up and searching for the light.
There it was, floating in the air just a few feet away from the boat. I held the lantern out, hoping to identify what it was.
Suddenly it dropped into the water.
Although I was shivering and slightly annoyed, something made my stomach churn as it began to sink under the waves. So, despite my better sense, I dropped the lantern in the boat and dove in after the sinking light. I came back to the surface and paused there momentarily, making sure I could see it before I went under, because once under, I wouldn’t be able to open my eyes due to the salt.
The light was getting dimmer and dimmer as it sunk even further down.
Taking a deep breath, I clamped my eyes shut and darted under the water.
Finding it in the dark water without being able to open my eyes was twice as hard as they make it seem in movies, where the hero can just open his eyes without them stinging. It was like trying to find a needle in a hayfield while blindfolded.
At last I felt something. Wrapping my fingers around it, I whipped my feet back and forth as hard as I could, my lungs already screaming for oxygen.
When my face broke through the water I was gasping and choking. Déjà vu hit me hard as I struggled to swim back to the boat. It had drifted away several yards while I’d been under, so swimming back with one hand balled around the now dimly-glowing, slightly slimy object was twice as hard as swimming back with two free hands.
I threw my arm over the side of the boat and just stayed there for a second, desperately trying to bring enough oxygen back into my lungs so I was no longer light-headed. My arms were shaking with fatigue and cold when I finally hauled myself up and into the swaying boat.
I lay on the bottom of the boat, panting for a minute.
Finally, I rolled onto my stomach and forced myself onto my knees, wanting to see what it was that I had risked my life to save.
