The Iridesence of the Past- Part 1

If I wasn't such a light sleeper, the bawl of the buffalo calf would have drifted past dead ears.

That evening on the beach was especially cold. I could see the faint wisps of my breath as the frosty wind carried it away, making me shiver as I walked. The ebony sky wasn’t very welcoming; it didn’t even care to provide me with the soft light of the moon. The water was as black as the sky, and only the tips of the waves caught the meager sources of light from the houses above. Everyone was asleep but I was awake, trudging through the sand.

The authoritative wind drove against me, fighting my onward movement. I could have turned around and allowed the wind to propel me safely home, but I pressed on, in a sort of trance, pressing the warm palms of my hands to my ice-cold cheeks. I remember wishing that I had donned two sweatshirts instead of one, with Ugg boots on my feet instead of sandals.

Ever since my family and I first moved here two years ago, I have been invigorated by the salty gusts of air that paired with the soft hiss of the tide. I used to walk every day, picking my way through sun-bleached rocks and finding a desolate place to read, normally a spot where I could stick my feet into the cool saltwater. Even on busy days, I’d find a way to spend some time by the shore and far from other humans. I’ve never enjoyed the ocean itself, for I have never been very good at swimming or body surfing, but the environment that surrounds the mid-Californian tide—rocks, tawny sand, and pine trees—is delicious.

At least during the day.

It’s almost as if the sun is the earth’s mother. When she drifts off to sleep and allows the darkness of the night to take over, the disobedient world has her own plans. She unleashes the obtrusive winds and the bitter cold, granting liberty to the darkness.

I had been trekking along the shore for less than ten minutes when a faint rustling settled over my ears. The sound appeared to be coming from a clump of reeds and coastal brush to my right. The branches quivered, but I wasn’t sure if they shook only because of the wind or because a creature was concealed within.

At first, I thought that it might be one of those adorable ground squirrels that burrowed under the earth and popped up when food-bearing humans were near. When I’m walking home from school, I see those little guys everywhere.

The heather gray blur that bounded out of the brush, however, was far from little. I staggered backwards with surprise as the creature galloped across the sand. My immediate assumption was that it was a wolf— I could see the gray fur, four paws, and a long tail.

The canine was gone as soon as it appeared. My senses gradually returned as a fresh gust of wind picked up and jerked the hood of my sweatshirt off my head. I glanced toward the shore, but saw nothing except for the tips of the waves. That had to have been a lost dog, I reasoned to myself, tugging the hood back on. It had been way too dark and far too fast for me to have noticed a leash or collar, but I knew it had to be a dog. A big one, yes, but a dog all the same. Wolves don’t live in California, anyway, and a coyote is too small to fit the profile of that creature.

Yes, I decided, a dog. A dog who had lost its owner.

It was then that I heard the sound that had woken me up in the first place: a low bawl, drawn out for several seconds. It was much closer now, and in the direction that the canine had gone: the ocean.

I crouched to the ground and surveyed the sand for tracks, but it was too dark to see a thing. I could go back to the house and find a flashlight, but I didn’t want to lose my place; my phone had a flashlight, but I had left it in my room. I stood up again and crossed my arms, turning my head towards the ocean, only about thirty yards away. I wanted to help the dog and find out what the bawling noise was- there was a good chance that they were connected- but I was at a loss at what to do. Maybe I could wait until my eyes had completely adjusted.

The waves surged and receded, catching flecks of topaz from the streetlamps above. I looked up at the blank sky, wishing that the moon would appear.

Within a few moments, something did appear. It wasn’t the moon, or anything in the sky. It was the dog’s silhouette, framed against the water. I could make out its thin tail and broad, shaggy mouth as it paused for a moment, then walked out, into the tide. Then it was gone.

I blinked. The dog had calmly walked into the water, without making a splash, and disappeared.

Something weird was going on.

I didn’t need the dog’s trail anymore, so I hurried to the shore, deciding that my eyes had deceived me and the dog had just jumped into the water. But as I scanned the ocean, as far as the darkness would let me, but there was nothing. Just the black waves. But, wait- the waves…

The waves in front of me just looked wrong. The section of water in front of me moved at a different pace than the other sections, and the way the waves crashed just looked, well, fake. The differences were subtle, but they were there.

I shook my head, deciding that I was going crazy.

I took a few steps backward and glanced at the row of dark houses behind me. One of them was mine, and it was to there that I had an fleeting urge to run. I could picture myself bursting into my parents’ room, yelling, There’s a big dog out there! And it just ran into the water and disappeared! And the ocean looks funny! They would think that I was delirious, and maybe I was.

But what happened next made me completely forget about escaping to my house.

My eyes, which had mostly adjusted to the darkness by then, spotted a section of the sand that appeared to be pressed down in a rectangular shape, right around where the dog had dissolved from view. The water surged forward, but instead of filling into the impression, it flowed around it. Puzzled, I waited for the water to retreat, then stuck my foot out to investigate. Instead of landing on sand, my foot landed on wood. A plank of wood, that had appeared when I had touched it. The plank was a foot in width, but stretched a few yards out, hovering above the water. I stared at it, astounded. When I lifted my foot, it disappeared, like the dog.  I stepped back, oblivious to the wind that tugged at my sweatshirt and ignorant of the goosebumps that peppered my legs.

But, more than anything, I was curious. There was certainly more to it than just a wooden board. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the plank.