Legs

The sounds of the seagulls crying out wake me every morning and the alarm of old rusted bells ringing and waves crashing on concrete shores call out to me to begin my day. They are beautiful sounds that I've grown accustomed to living by the sea. I love to run through the large green hills every morning and wave at the ships leaving the docks.

"Aurora, don't run off too far" my grandpa says as he walks me through the fields. My grandpa named me Aurora from the northern lights he observed once during an expedition out to sea when my mother was pregnant with me. He loves to share the story with me, "You was born a hardy breed, Aurora", the lights were painted green and yellow and violet so I knew you was to be born curious and brave", he says. My grandpa had long grey beard and always wore his trusty brightly yellow colored wind breaker and leather gloves he hardly removed from his hand. There was a story tied to a tragic time he experienced one day out to sea and the reason how he lost his little finger. Though I loved my grandpa's stories and even more so his imagination, I never knew if the reason was true.

My family had a great affinity to the oceans, we honored its mysteries, its soothing calmness and it's beauty. Our lives tangled around it, my older brother Johnny he worked in the offshore drilling in South America far from home and would share these incredible stories of the animal sightings. My favorites were of the many creatures he saw during high tide or after stormy weathers. He said he once saw a family of pink dolphins, and once a giant red-colored Whale. Despite this, he would still say cruel things about grandpa being a coward, says he was a proud old man who wouldn't admit he was afraid of almost drowning that he masked the reasoning to a false story. He was mad he would invent stories that would give me nightmares about the creatures he's seen. It was true I was afraid of the shadows in my house, and the shadows that lingered out over the horizon at dusk. It was true it was brought on from the story my grandpa shared to me that brought on this fear, but I never blamed him for it, I rather enjoyed the stories, but I never knew if they were real.

The story goes there was a giant beast my grandpa witnessed he would call it, "Legs" and said it was a solemn reminder of his amputated finger. One night my grandpa sailed out to sea for some fishing, he fell asleep that day and ended up further away onto shore and didn't notice the clouds and weathers changing. He says he first remembered the eerie quietness before the rain began to pour heavily onto him. There was a trembling sound that the creature emitted which startled him before seeing the body of the long legged beast towering over his ship. He didn't notice it until he was only a few feet away. He tried to sail off but it hooked onto his boat and tugged at it. He said his boat wouldn't move as the creature clutched tightly and pulled him closer. He leaned over to my grandfather with its long tentacles and fins and almost drowned him, he kicked it and beat it with a wooden plank but it didn't give up until it took a part of his hand. My grandpa finally released himself by shooting the creature with his flare gun. He says he burned it and could see the fear into the animals eyes. He never forgot the sounds of its cries and rushing to escape.  

I stayed with my grandpa on Fridays to play in his yard by the lighthouse. It was customary for my grandpa to lock the gates surrounding his property, but he never admitted why though we all knew. I could tell he was also afraid of the shadows from the disturbances in his gaze and the tragic sea shanties he loved to sing at night. One day as it got darker early in the day because of the heavy clouds, my grandpa called out to me while I was playing in the fields.

"There she is, come on in, Aurora, 'are ye all not tired yet?' He calls me in the house in his thick Irish accent. "Daideó, not yet. I want to play a little bit longer!" I yell to him that night persistently. He was quick to get upset so I rushed not too long after a second call. That night my grandpa slept early, it was a misty day, and I heard a faint frightening roar echoing almost like the sound of a ship docking out in the ocean. My grandpa was fast asleep. I saw those same giant shadows emit into the open living room doors, I could see the same long tall shadows in the horizon. I wanted a closer look, I needed to know for sure if those stories were real, I thought I would suppress my fear and run down to the coast to get a closer look. I ran over and skipped over the rock bridge deeper into the ocean. I saw those same shadows that seemed to be getting closer to land. It didn't take long for those giant legs to reach me what felt instantaneously.

That was the day I saw him for myself, Legs, and he was now towering over me almost four stories high, with those long thin tentacles that raised its head above like a silhouetted palm tree. I could see the shine in its emotionless eye staring down towards me. I quickly called out for grandpa but I knew I was too far from the house to reach. I was stuck there on the rocks with a long vertical shadow besides me. Legs finally decided to reach its tentacles over to me and blocked the passageway from the end of the rocks and I froze. I then remembered the part of the story when my grandpa used his flare gun to frighten the beast. I then reached over to my pockets, my arms trembling as I pulled out a lighter and flicked it. It was a small flame, but Legs took notice. His giant eye appeared to widen and he quickly retreated his tentacles back to the ocean. His trembling roar grew fainter as he disappeared back into sea.

I ran as fast as I could back into the house where my grandpa was still fast asleep. From that day forward I always defended grandpas stories when Johnny made fun of them. I never mentioned seeing legs again to grandpa because I didn't want to frighten him further but I knew now he was one of the bravest men I've known.