Feels Stories

She Walked on the Waves

'Midlife Crisis', that's what I named my ship. I'm sure I don't need to explain why. I bought her on a whim, dreaming of sailing away on the ocean and starting a new life. In the five years since I'd tied her to the dock, she'd lost her pristine sheen and that new-boat smell that had attracted me to her. She was still sea-ready, but I regretted not taking her on her maiden voyage sooner. I set sail on the Atlantic, with no clear destination in mind. I just wanted to go east, towards Europe. I'd used all the vacation days I'd accumulated over the years to free myself up for an entire month. I had food, radio equipment, and a rudimentary map. The bare minimum.

Then, one night, as I was sitting on the deck letting the waves gently rock the boat, I spotted something in the water. It was just a blip in the distant horizon, but one that was impossible to miss. A white shape that stood out from the dark blue expanse around me. Curious, I set down my bottle of lukewarm beer and wandered to the front of the boat. Unable to take my eyes off the shape, I pawed blindly at the top of the control console, trying to find the binoculars I remembered tossing there earlier. My hands landed on the lenses, so when I brought the binocular to my eyes, all I could see was a streaky smudge. I quickly wiped them on my shirt and peered through them again. I expected to see a wayward buoy or some sort of flotsam, but instead, I saw something impossible.

I saw a woman walking on the waves.

She rose and fell with every swell of the ocean. Neither sinking, nor floating: she casually strolled along the surface of the water, as though on solid ground. I must be dreaming, I thought as I put the binoculars down and rubbed my eyes in disbelief. I was sure I'd wake up on my cot at any moment and the surreal scene would fade from my memory. But, when I pinched myself to check, I felt the prick and realized I was awake.

I reacted out of instinct. Not wanting to believe what I'd seen with my own two eyes, I convinced myself she must have been a passenger from another ship. Someone who'd fallen overboard. Someone that needed to be rescued. I powered on the engine and set sail towards her. As I began to bridge the distance, I looked through the binoculars again for a better look.

She wore an elegant dress. White with lilac lace and a floral pattern embroidered on the larger surfaces. The skirt flared above her hips and fell in the shape of a church bell. The dress was tight around her waist, a corset holding her stomach stiffly in place and squeezing her breasts up just enough for a hint of them to be visible at the low neckline. Her sleeves started below her shoulders and ended halfway down her upper arms, where they gave way to long silk gloves. Her feet weren't visible under the dress's frilled hem, but I imagined she must have worn elegant heels that matched her outfit. Her skin was paler than the moon hovering above us. That paleness, along with her heavy red lipstick and rosy cheeks, made her look like a porcelain doll. Her immaculate hair added to that impression. It was pinned back with a rose brooch and cascaded down the back of her neck, ending just above a black choker. The choker was accompanied by a gold chain and locket that dipped halfway towards her chest. She looked like someone straight out of a history book. I was mesmerized, watching her closely as we continued along our respective paths. She towards me, and me towards her. As though we'd become tethered together. The waves should have made her drift off-course, but somehow she kept going in a straight line through shifting terrain, as though pulled by an unseen force.

By the time I got close enough to see her clearly with my own two eyes, I knew she wasn't just another castaway. The waves at her feet were crystal clear and solid like glass, but they buckled and rolled with the ocean's ebb and flow. I could hear the distant clatter of her heels on the water as she approached. Solids where there should have been liquids, clatters where there should have been splashes, walking where there should have been swimming; the discrepancies were disorienting. Maybe I should have been afraid of her, but I was too fascinated. Too captivated by the solemn smile on her face.