The gulls cry. The waves and the winds of mid-July rinse the sand as I lie on the beach stretching my fingers, reaching and touching white foam. It recoils just as my fingertips graze it. Back into the ocean. The gulls cry and the lighthouse flashes, calling home. The sky is empty yet filled with everything. The salt and the sand polish stones as smooth as my memory of the touch of her cheeks.
Wave upon wave upon the ship. Rain. Everyone leaned right and the first catastrophe was avoided. The salt stayed in Winona’s mouth and she coughed, but there wasn’t time. I shoved her and she fell over. Candice yelled as I dragged Winona’s body to the left. Waves crashed down. We were under water. I couldn’t scream. She couldn’t scream. I held her still. The surface moved as we made our way up. My chest burned and I had to get air. Water forced itself in through my nose and mouth. Air! Winona coughed heavily. We were in between currents and the next one came. I hugged her as it dragged us down; below any reasonable chance of survival. I lost her.
Swimming in forces strong enough to sink a ship is impossible. I was lucky. Candice floated on wreckage and Winona cried for help. I swam out. The waves had not subsided but they gave me Winona. She wasn’t breathing. I tried to keep her head above water. Nothing else could be done. The rain wouldn’t stop and waves pulled us under. I lost her again. She didn’t hold on and I wasn’t strong enough. I took a deep breath and as I did I swallowed a lot of water. I started coughing and soon after I was under. Darkness. My lungs filled with water. I was close to suffocation but Candice dragged me up and laid me on the side. I kept coughing. She screamed.
“WINONA!”
We were floating safely. Minutes had past. Candice wouldn’t give up. Me neither. She swam into the storm. Into the storm! I yelled for her, for them, and swam after. I couldn’t swim under water, I was still coughing. I had to turn back. Winona screamed. She was sitting in a lifeboat. I chose to make my way to her.
Even in the night the gulls cry. The empty sky is without hope. Never has there been a heaven for Candice and me. Winona believes. The sky is full. Every dream she has is of a meeting with her mother and every nightmare I have is of Candice, going under water to save our Winona after saving me.
Sometimes Winona lies here with me. We both reach out. If we stay in this position the waves will always retreat, threatened to be where they don’t belong. Just touching our fingertips. And sometimes I also believe. The gentle touch of Candice. This is where I am.
Winona hugs me. Her cheeks remind me of Candice and we look up. She looks for heaven but all I see is the night sky and the stars flashing, calling home.
Home, home.
literally stories 
Hi Tobias, you have a superb talent for finding beauty in tragedy. Your descriptions and tone in the story are perfect.
You are a very accomplished, skilled and adaptable writer. I only hope that your future involves your talent with much deserved success!!
All the very best my friend.
Hugh
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You are so very kind, my friend. I am both humbled and grateful. You are, as I hope you know, truly an inspiration and your comments as well as your feedback are invaluable! I had given up writing stories in English. I didn’t think I could do them justice. But with the great help and the opportunity given by you all, I think I have reached a maturity in my writing which I wouldn’t have otherwise!
All the very best my friend
Tobias
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From the superb first paragraph, the story moved flawlessly. So sad, so beautiful, so vivid – it’s hard to believe this is fiction. Splendid work, Tobias! June
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Thank you, June. I’m very glad you picked out the first line. This story originated in a Swedish poem. From the first translation that line is the only line which survived. I like it too. There is a musicality to the line which I’m fond of. The poem grew out of a thought, what if a person was saved by a loved one and both are non-believer. He struggles with the loss, but also his faith. The storm is nature in the nature vs mankind. The waves come back, they always do. If he lies there, it’s almost like he, a non-believer, believes that it’s the touch of his lost wife. I think it’s beautiful. I imagine I would too spend ever day and night there, to be reminded of her gentle touch. I’m getting emotional even as I write this. 🙂 I’m sorry! I was just so happy by your comment I got carried away! I’ve never met you, but I’m a great fan of your generosity. Such are the heights of your kindness! Truly! Thank you, June.
ATVB my friend
Tobias
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Tobias, I must tell you that I am always moved by your responses to me. Thank you for them. Yours, June
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Reblogged this on Tobias Haglund and commented:
About love and loss…. Nature vs Mankind and believing. Originally published on Literally Stories.
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