The Widow of the Waves

The hunger pain of Matthew’s stomach woke him long before the sun rose. The clouds were pink in the sky, passing through after a long night of rain. He rolled over to look at the wall of his tiny white rock shelter. He scratched a diagonal line across four vertical ones. He knew sleep would not embrace him again, so he sat, sore from sleeping on the stone floor again. He reached for his satchel dumping the contents in front of him. Half of the emergency candle, a knife, flint, and some cordage. He tipped the satchel, gathering the last of the crumbs from the hard tack he finished last night. I can’t be too mad at Notley, he had the decency to prepare my pack with a few things prior to… being thrown over. I’d be dead already if it wasn’t for him. No excuses for the others though. I have to hope that someone will come along soon.

Matthew stood and looked out from the door of his cylindrical shelter. The sun was beginning to emerge across the horizon. The sunrise had normally filled his heart with hope. The sight of a new day always meant another chance for rescue, but this morning was not the same. His heart was filled with despair. He walked out and grabbed his canteen; he had positioned it to catch the rainwater from the roof. Taking a sip, he walked around the shelter. He looked across the barren skerry that he had called home for the last few days. I should have stayed home, Margaret was right. My studies took me away from the safety of my home before, but this... He looked across the glassy sea water surrounding him in all directions. His body was already withering. He had rationed what food he had, but now, he was out. I’ll need to find something if I am to survive until rescue.

He grabbed his satchel and knife and walked to the shore. The dark, sea water gently lapped along the sharp rocks. He looked for anything along the rocks, hoping for something to eat. Finding a small crab, he snatched it from the rocks and threw it in his mouth. He chewed it three times before swallowing. A trick he had learned while traveling with the whalers, the taste of their food did not matter, as long as it provided energy for their work. Any food would be better than this. I had thought myself on a grand adventure, a true explorer of my times. And now I shall die an unknown astronomer, on the forsaken island. Nobody will mourn for… Something caught in the vision of his periphery. A man? His heart raced at the idea of seeing another person. He turned to look, but nothing. His loneliness filling a void that he felt couldn’t get bigger.

He looked back to the shelter he slept in. A tall cylindrical structure with a cone roof twice the height of the rest of the building. The structure looks like a white knife cutting the sky. Who built it all the way out here, and why? His eyes followed down the structure to the grass hill, towards the rocks he assembled into a sign. “HELP”. He made the sign on the first day he arrived. Every time he looked at it, it took on a new meaning to him. Help, please rescue me. Help, I feel like I’m going crazy. Help, I am scared. Help, I think I’ll die soon.

Matthew had always lived his life in order; he found that having a system of patrolling around the skerry helped to pass the time. He could look for passing ships, food, or try to discover anything helpful. He walked along the shoreline, struggling to climb across the rocks. His energy was so low that making his way along the rocks was becoming harder each day. He couldn’t even make a full lap; he had to sit on the grass and rest, trying to conserve his energy. He lay down in the long grass looking up at the passing clouds. They moved fast through the sky and were growing darker. He closed his eyes. Just a short nap. Sleeping had become a salve for his broken heart, he felt peace, if even momentarily. He didn’t know if he would open his eyes again each time he closed them.

“You have been so brave. It will be over soon.” A female voice whispered in his ear. He scrambled up to see where the voice came from. The island was empty. The wind whipped through the tall grass. Occasionally it howled across the doorway of the shelter. He looked back to the water seeing something white catching his eye. He carefully walked out into the cold water; his boots were soaking wet as he stepped out further than usual. He reached out his fingers, straining to reach the object. He leaned further feeling his strength wavering as he grabbed hold of the object. It was hard and felt like wood, he pulled it towards himself and recognized what it was. A bone! Panicked he threw the bone behind him. He stumbled on the rocks, falling in the water, soaking his clothes.

Matthew crawled off the rocks, trying to make his way to the grass. He faced the sand, lifting his head took too much strength. As he reached the sand, he noticed a footprint. What? He wiped his eyes, and the footprint was still there. He looked up quickly, not seeing anyone around. Cautiously he stood up not wanting to disturb the footprint in the sand. He compared the size of it to his boot. It’s almost five inches bigger than my boot. He looked around and shouted. “Who is there? Someone is here I know it!”

Matthew spun around looking for any sign of movement. He fell to the ground, sobbing. Am I losing my mind? He rolled over; his face was met with the bleached white bone he had thrown earlier. He scooted back, sitting up. He looked at the bone trying to figure out if it was an animal or human bone. That looks like a femur. It could be a goat… It is not a goat… It is a human femur. He sat staring at the bone. Terror gripped his heart squeezing so hard that he could not bring himself to scream. He remembered the words of the sailors.

“A fine sacrifice you will make. The Widow of the waves is ready to embrace you.” Winfield said as he held a knife to Matthew’s neck. His gnarled hands grasped Matthew’s hair. Winfield stood at the railing of the ship. The wisps of what little hair he had left whipped through the storm charged air. Matthew tried to keep his balance with the ship rocking back and forth, extremely aware of the knife at his throat. The other sailors began chanting.

“To the widow… Join the waves.”

Matthew had no idea what they were talking about. He looked to Captain Benjamin, standing on the upper deck. They made eye contact for a moment, then the captain turned his back wordlessly. Notley, a kind young sailor, approached Matthew. He was a large man towering over Matthew. He placed the satchel over Matthew and placed his hands on his shoulders.

“Let her embrace come quickly for you, bring us peace.” Notley said as he wiped a tear from his eye and walked away. Lightning struck and Matthew looked at the crooked smile on Winfield’s face.

“The time has come for you. The widow awaits. Your sacrifice will save these souls.” With no remorse, Winfield removed the knife at Matthew’s throat and shoved him into the depths.

Matthew held the femur in his hand staring at the enormous footprint in the sand. The widow of the waves. Is she… real? No, it can’t be real.

“There is peace for you beneath the waves.” A male voice whispered in his ear. Matthew jumped to his feet. Spinning around, nobody was there. The sky began to grow dark, and rain began to fall. Matthew slowly walked, turning around and stopping every few steps. Crossing the short distance to the shelter, he walked in, looking out the door as the sky turned black. He stared into the dark rain and felt as though he could see figures floating just above the rocks. My eyes, they trick me. My hunger, the exhaustion… there is a reason for this. Hallucinations.

Matthew sat cowering against the wall. Opening the satchel, he grabbed the emergency candle, the flint, and the knife. Putting the candle in front of himself, he knelt. He cut off a piece of his shirt and began striking the flint against the knife. The cloth began to smolder; he picked it up and cradled it, blowing it gently. He placed it on the wick of the candle lighting it. He stared deeply at the candle, his last remaining hope. The storm began to rage outside. He could hear a chorus of voices chanting with the crashing waves.

“She…Comes…” Matthew covered his ears with his hands. No, no, no! This cannot be happening; it is not real. Tears began to stream down his cheeks. The storm began to subside. He removed his hands from his ears; it was quiet now. The voices all stopped. He looked out the door from his huddled position on the floor. The sky was black. The waves had stopped. He felt his fears leaving him. It must have all been in my head. I need to get some rest. My mind is slipping away from me. A cold wet finger stroked his cheek brushing away a tear.

“There is rest with me in the sea.” Matthew heard a female voice echoing through his mind. He scrambled away from what touched him, falling to the ground. The candle fell on the ground extinguished. He looked up toward the shadows in the cone ceiling of the shelter as a long pale hand disappeared into the darkness. Matthew crawled backwards slowly out of the shelter. A pair of glowing white eyes opened and locked on his. He clambered to his feet not wanting to take his eyes off the shelter. He tripped on a rock on the ground. He looked down to see his sign had changed. It now said, “HELL” he stared at the sign in disbelief. His eyes shot back to the shelter as a black shape fell from the inside and skulked behind it.

Matthew stood up. Where can I go, what is it. Is this real? Has my mind gone? He looked around becoming aware of the dark forms gathered on the rocks watching him. The water splashed behind him. He did not want to turn to see; he knew what was waiting for him.

“Go to her, there is peace in her embrace.” One of the shades said to him.

“Join her, enter the sea, and rest easy. She waits for you.” Another said. Matthew turned around and looked at the sea. A dark shape rose from the water. Black hair parted by glowing white eyes. His terror and despair became too much. He looked to the shades. “Let her hold you, there is no suffering in her arms.” Matthew stepped onto the rocks and began walking into the sea.