Ocean’s Prelude

Someone was here. They were tapping at your enclosure like a curious child would to the glass of an aquarium, unaware they were poking the tail of a lion. At this point, it had become a common occurrence. A mantra. Something that lulled you to sleep. You curled into yourself and didn’t bother to open your eyes, expecting the tapping to be brief. This was an unauthorized area. Little tended to stay for long, even less had the permission to enter. Yet, you woke up to a small girl patting your cheek, the silk of her veil tickling your chin.

The child was thin but not malnourished, and often accompanied by an assortment of sweets. You wondered why she never ate any as you popped one in your mouth, savoring the drops of artificial melon that coated your tongue. In exchange for introducing you to such delicacies, you taught her to catch fish, her clumsy hands trembling as she choked a yellowtail, watching the bubbles escape towards the surface. She kept it under for a while longer, offering a taste to the ocean. The sky wept as the fish disintegrated, and she smiled, returning to your side.

Turns out, the child had more authority than you gave her credit for. As she held your chains like a leash, you made your way to the altar. You sat on the velvety cushion while she made offerings of seaweed and rice. You traced your hand along the woven tapestries while she chanted the first chapter of a familiar hymn. When she sneaked you bits of food, you ate it. You ate it jealously because she was your replacement, she was the reason why water burns flakes of your skin whenever you wash your hands. 

You always had trouble sleeping. But only lately, have you been haunted by recurring dreams of a boat stranded in the middle of the Ocean. Each time you close your eyes, you see your small form thrashing against the waves. You’ve lost track of the times you’ve fallen in. Sometimes it’s eight men pulling you under. Other times it’s the wrath of the wind, sloshing you around until you lose your grip. Though different variations of the nightmare prevent you from recalling finer details, one thing remains constant: the feeling of water invading your lungs.

You know the story by heart–the one read on the last day of the last month, a blessing for a prosperous new year. The origin of this tale traces back centuries ago. Back then, the Ocean was ruthless. It enjoyed plunging the coastal village into chaos, leaving floods in its wake that swallowed fields and ruined crops. To quell its fury, the village chief offered his first-born daughter as a bride. The Ocean sealed her heart with a string of pearls that bound them together for eternity, kissing her as she dissolved into foam. The next day, the village was blessed with gentle rain. Since then, the villagers celebrate this day as a festival, crafting wooden dolls as offerings for the Ocean in exchange for its favour. As you recite the story, you watch the child from the corner of your vision. Your eye twitches as she calls it romantic. 

On the day of the Festival, the two of you slip into the streets, led by the aroma of various food stalls. You snacked on a piece of tanghulu, lapping it with your tongue, and watched as the crystal shell crumbled. Beside you, a dart hits its target and a series of balloon pops follow. You heard the vendor groan, and the child’s grin grows impossibly wide as he hands her a teddy bear. She gave it to you and you clutched the stuffed animal as fireworks lit up your face. After the crowd parted, you looked down to squeeze her hand, but she was gone.

You remember how to write the moment the first drop of ink hits the page. It is a village tradition to place wishes onto pieces of paper before storing them in old cork bottles. Legend has it that these messages are sent out to the Ocean. If you are lucky, the waves will grant them. You smudge your letters as you fight to finish before your candle melted, staining your hands in the process. Drip. Drip. Time was running out. 

The boats are ready to depart. With your hands tied and legs bound, you lean against the cave wall, cold stone pressing into your back. You wait in knee-deep water that connects the Ocean to the rocky shore. The pebbles are sharp and slippery as you step on something that lets out a pitiful cry. It was a bunch of discarded carvings. Their faces were slick with brine, mouths frothing as the waves lapped at them like hungry hounds. You touch one and the wood stabs your hand like calloused skin. It was warm. You pull back, but the warmth follows, creeps under your fingernails, climbs up your wrist. As you are strapped onto the head of the ship, you realized it was time to stop pretending you weren’t one of them. 

The night hums with drums and the smell of incense. Fleets circle around you like sharks, their red lanterns glowing like eyes. Waves rise and fall and gongs chime feverishly. Someone scatters flowers on the surface of the water, the petals scorched like remnants of a wedding night. You fail to find even an ounce of empathy on the man who escorts you to the edge, face painted and eyes hollow. Behind him, a chorus of voices chant a name that no longer belongs to you. A dagger flashes, severing the rope at your wrists. Freedom, you think bitterly. You take a step forward as you undress your robes, the silk fluttering like a dying fire. Your head is calmly dipped in salt water, which runs down your face like tears. You think of the cloudless sky, of the temple bell that will toll once this is over. You think of your mother, and your ancestors, and all the women that will come after you. As you take one last glance back, you thought you saw something strange. A shadow of a girl, calling out to you. 

It’s raining. You know because you can feel the raindrops on the outline of your ribs with each gasp you take. You can’t hear it, but the drums have stopped and the chanting has dissipated. The only sound left is the faint and uneven mantra of your pulse. Water rushes into your lungs, heavy and brittle. It hurts to breathe and you choke, convulsing as bubbles escape from your mouth in frantic spirals. Sea foam wraps around you, pulling you into a tight embrace and crushing any thoughts of escape. You close your eyes, watching the light above slowly fade as you sink further. The Ocean curls, rocking gently, until there is nothing left of you.