Susurrus

Low Tide

Low tide has always called to me. It has been my friend and my salvation, since a babe in arms when I was carried by my guardian down the cobbles and across the shingles at the dawn of each new day.

As I grew, we ran the hundreds of steps, chasing the grey ebbing water towards the unknown; always stopping when we reached the shallow ripples.

I became aware of local gossip when I was about ten years of age. The daily ritual of my early years turned from joy to hatred. My love of the sea had been eclipsed by a woman driven by resentment and greed. How dare she call herself my guardian? For a decade, she had been consumed with plans on how to rid herself of responsibility for my life. The fact that she never did fulfil her desire to sacrifice me to the sea made no difference to me.

My mother, a widow of seven months, had died in childbirth, entrusting me to her kin. Fortune would reward her, should I not survive.

I have refused to look upon the sea as a threat and continue my walk at each new dawn. Now, as I approach manhood, I watch the tide ebb; her lifeless form going towards the unknown.

LOW TIDE HAS ALWAYS BEEN MY FRIEND, AND MY SALVATION.