Adrift

Her garlanded body glided along the waves, receiving soft nudges here and there from the pull of the tide. It was quiet, but then again it normally was. The water was cold and the night air was chilly, but she had befriended the numbness a long time ago. The water tickled her head, uncoiling her hair into sea serpents that lurked about her in the velvety sea. Bunches of daisies and pansies clung to the lace of her gown, the petals gently flitting in the breeze as she bobbed up and down whilst frothy hands tried to take her for their own.

She had given herself to the sea over 700 years ago. She had given herself. The sea could not claim her, so the frothy hands dissolved for the time being, but she knew they would come back, they always did.

Her marble white skin looked as smooth as a Grecian statue under the moonlight. As she lay there, silently basking in it, she noticed something. It was very subtle, but she could sense it nevertheless. Almost as if it had crept out of the back door so as to go unnoticed, the quietness had left. Slowly, the waves picked up to a roar and the wind began to howl. The deafening sounds crashed against her eardrums and almost overpowered everything else, but then she heard it. She could hear in the distance the faintest noise that no matter how loud the sea became, would not be drowned out. She recognised it instantly. It was the land calling her back. It was barely noticeable at first, but it gradually grew louder until it rang sharply in her ears. For centuries she had listened for it, but the land had always remained stubbornly silent, bitter at her for leaving. She knew now that the frothy hands could never reach her again. A whisper of a smile crossed her face. It was time to go home.

The sea pulled her closer and closer to the shore, growing more violent with each tug. It began yanking her hair and stinging her eyes, poking them with salty fingers. She was twisted and jerked, and just when the pain had reached its peak, all at once, it came to a halt. The ocean had stopped resisting and let her go. She rolled onto the land and lay there, cradled by the rough and worn arms of the coast like a child, feeling a pang of regret. A salty tear rolled down her cheek as she stared at the watery expanse, bidding farewell to her friend of seven centuries. Parting is indeed such sweet sorrow.

She expected herself to stumble like a new born deer, but to her surprise she stood up without any trouble. She swept her glossy hair from her face and took one last look at the sight she would never see again before turning her back on it forever.

She looked at herself for the first time in years and noticed that her slender pink fingers were clutching a bunch of blue columbines. She stared at the delicate, two toned flower heads for a while, trying to remember why she was holding them in the first place, but she couldn’t conjure even the faintest memory. In fact, she couldn’t remember anything about herself at all. She knew that she had given herself to the sea all those years ago, but as to her name or her identity, she had no clue. This was why the land must have called her.

Unlike the silky arms of the sea that she was used to, the coarse earth scratched her bare feet, but with every step she took, the more it became like she was walking with an old friend. She examined her surroundings and could recognise nothing - although that was expected, having been away for such a long time. She gazed at the colourful buildings of all shapes and sizes towering over her in place of the cobblestone streets she once knew. Despite the unfamiliarity, something inside of her reassured her that this was where she belonged and where all the answers lay.

Leaving a trail of petals and droplets behind her, she sauntered her way down the track, using the kicks and caresses of her faded memories to guide her. As she did so, it became apparent that it was not only the town that had changed, but life itself. Where there should have been market stalls and horse drawn carriages, stood empty lanes studded with metal machines. Maybe they were some sort of plough? But there were no fields as far as she could see. And the people! Almost everyone was walking around with bare arms and legs, both men and women! Not to mention the lack of wigs and adornments. Possibly this was a poorer area lacking etiquette and education? There seemed to be a slight similarity to the language she knew, but she could barely grasp any of what passers-by were saying. Maybe they spoke in a different dialect. However, with all the judgements she silently passed on to the strangers around her, it soon became clear that she was the foreigner, adventuring alone on a land that she could no longer call her own. With each step she took being no clearer than the last, a tinge of sadness shadowed her features as she began to droop like the bunch of flowers in her hand.

After a few minutes, she stopped to rest at a fountain, setting the flowers down next to her. Staring at her rippling reflection below, she knew that she was close to finding out her identity; just being in this place had brought her that much closer. It was within her reach, but she needed a memory, even just a short one to tear away the veil behind which it lay. But just as she set to thinking, the sound of laughter brought her back to the present, and she saw a child who was no more than six, excitedly grab the daisies that had fallen from her dress off the floor. The girl eagerly showed her mother and seemed to be asking her something before her eyes lit up, seeing the columbines on the side of the fountain. The girl clearly wanted them.

“You can take th-“

Before she could finish, the child grabbed and thrust them towards her mother, pleading with her for something. The mother seemed hesitant at first, but presumably gave in to whatever the girl asked for as she smiled and nodded. Then the two, hand in hand, walked away. Neither of them had looked at her sitting across from them. They mustn’t have heard her - or more likely, didn’t understand her.

There was something about these people that spiked her attention, so she quickly rose and followed them. They were swinging their hands to and fro in a playful manner. The child was completely absorbed in the beauty of the flowers she’d found and the mother seemed content, but lost in her thoughts as she lead the way. Mother and daughter. She tried to imagine herself that young, holding hands with her own mother, but no picture came to mind.

The pair eventually veered off the straight path and approached what seemed like a tavern. She followed them, but kept at a distance to make sure she didn’t draw any attention to herself. They waited outside for a while until a man came out and scooped the young girl into his arms, throwing her in the air, evoking squeals of laughter. He then put one arm around the mother and the trio began walking again. The father had arrived.

She stared at the group, especially drawn to the father as he acted amazed at the flowers his daughter was proudly showing him. The mother began tickling the little girl before the two burst out into laughter. The father chuckled softly along with them. There was something about…

…his laugh. It was his laugh that brought it back. Her father’s laugh. It was as though an ink pot had been spilled and her mind, previously a blank slate, was now filled with the colour of her early memories. Tears welled in her eyes as traces of her childhood weaved themselves in and out of her mind. Her father’s laugh had been the clearest memory. He didn’t laugh often, but when he did, it had always been with her. She realised now why she had remembered nothing all that time she’d been observing the mother. She could not remember someone she never knew. Her father had raised her, and although he was a stern man at the best of times and often consumed by his work, he had loved her. She looked at the little girl who was now propped on her father’s shoulders and smiled. The memories were returning.

The family were now approaching a cemetery, and a strong feeling spiked through her as she followed, nearing the gates. The feeling was so strong it almost knocked her off her feet, but she persisted. Was it here she would find out everything? The memories came quicker and sharper now in gushes rather than trickling streams. She remembered a loving brother, fierce and strong-willed, but not his name, or hers for that matter. Her hands tingled as she let them fall and slide along the tombstones as she walked past, still following closely behind the family. The deeper she went into the cemetery, the more overwhelmed she became. Her face darkened as a string of bad memories reared their ugly heads. It came in a flood; her father’s political plots and intrigue, him using her a dispensable pawn, his murder, an anguished lover and a torn kingdom.

Every step added to the momentum inside of her, until she was almost being dragged. Through blurred vision she could still see the family in front of her. Her heart thundered in her chest making her tremble, only growing louder as she continued. The family finally came to a stop, standing silently before an ancient tombstone where the little girl lay down her flowers.

Her body was shaking so vigorously at this point that she fell to the ground behind them, quivering. The family stayed there until the girl had finished rearranging the flowers, and then turned to leave, ignoring her as they passed. She was so overwhelmed that no cries for help could escape from her lips, but as she caught a glimpse of the name inscribed on the tombstone, everything suddenly stopped. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

With that one name, she remembered it all. Her identity, her life and, her death. Exhausted, she lay on the ground, staring up at the star spangled sky. A droplet of sweat trickled down her head as she regained her breath, smiling now that it was all over. This was her destiny, what she had come for, and now she could be at peace, because she finally found out the one piece of information needed to bring it all back. She breathed out one last breath as the name lingered on her lips.

“Ophelia.”