Mystical Ocean

Sarah stood at the top of the cliff, her toes curled around the edge of the
jagged rocks. She glanced briefly down towards the circular, blue pool, which
appeared to be the size of a laundry bucket from this height. She knew from
experience that if she hesitated, paused to gather courage, it would only make
it harder to take the step into space. She drew in a deep breath, counted to
herself, "One, two, three" and placed her life in the hands of gravity. As
she descended, the magical power and speed of falling through the sunlight and
then plunging into the water exhilarated her. It was always the same and yet the
rush she experienced, felt as thrilling as the first time. As she broke the
surface of the water, any remaining oxygen escaped from her lungs. Upon
surfacing, she would give her golden, brown hair a shake and gasp for air, while
trying to cope with the adrenalin that bolted through her veins. She awoke from
this pleasant reflection with a grin on her face. It wasn’t until she began to
regain full consciousness that the sinister fingers of her dreadful disease
reached around her chest and began to squeeze. The daily shock of realisation
confronted her. Every morning she had to face the horrific facts, again and
again and again. Lying back in her bed, she listened to the small birds
whistling cheerfully outside. She couldn’t help reminding herself of how
pointless and irrational it was to resent the native birds, which sat on the
dry, summer twigs. Finally, she could not bear to listen to them any more. They
could dance so freely, then stretch their wings and fly away. Sarah’s thoughts
were disturbed by her mother’s loud entrance to the room. As always she was
trying her absolute best to sound cheerful and indirectly supportive. "How are
you feeling?" she inquired compassionately. "Simply fantastic!" Sarah
replied sarcastically. Her mother attempted to ignore the bitter remark but was
visibly affected by Sarah’s recent cynical attitude. Sarah, although noticing
her mother’s discomfort refused to make eye contact or soften her harsh
comments. "How would you feel lying in this bed day after day?" she asked
angrily. "I could take you for a walk in your chair along the beach later, if
you want" her mother offered encouragingly. "I’ve told you, I hate that
chair and when are you going to get ithe damn thing out of my room", shouted

Sarah. She stared accusingly at her mother and then at the dull, silver
wheelchair, sitting beside her bed. Sarah hated that chair, refusing to use it
and resented her mother for Vbos No. 97194015 T leaving it in her room. "Get
it out!" Sarah roared once again. Despondently Sarah’s mother turned and
wheeled the chair out of her room. Silently Sarah’s nurse entered the room. A
small Asian woman, she rarely if ever spoke. Slowly she fed Sarah breakfast;
spoon-fed like a child. Frustration and anger grew within Sarah, as the most
mundane tasks were now beyond her capabilities. As the nurse gently bathed

Sarah’s legs, she wistfully remembered when she had full use of her limbs.

Tanned, defined, strong, her legs were an object of desire. Now they were little
more than two thin, brittle twigs. She envied her nurse as she moved gracefully
through the room. Meticulously prepared Sarah’s medication, ensuring each duty
was performed to the greatest detail, before leaving as swiftly as she’d
entered, offering Sarah only a shy, unsure, half-smile. Through her balcony
window, Sarah witnessed the huge waves crash into the jagged rocks below and
listened in silence to the mysteriously wild, roar of the ocean. The bitter
taste of medication lingered in her mouth, while the harsh wind picked up the
sand, swirling it in the air, causing the last of the tourists to scurry from
the sand. The beach was now desolate and bare, looked more like a desert. As the
sun slowly began to hide behind the clouds, the once golden sand turned to a
murky gray, while the incoming tide swallowed all before it. The shadow of
darkness spread quickly across the deep, endless ocean, hiding all within life
and the life of Sarah’s.