RoseMont Academy: The Naiad

A Bright Morning

       I woke to the sound of the waves washing over the sand. I took a deep breath allowing the smell of salt to spread throughout my body giving me little jolts of happiness all over. The scent awakened my senses and washed away any left over exhaustion. I sat up pushing the quilt aside and looked out the window.
       The sun was especially bright today. Its rays shattered into a million shards, hitting the ocean until the water was shimmering with light. The sand was a creamy white adorned with seashells and rocks. If you looked closely, you could see the footprints that the residents, who lived farther up the coast, left behind.
       My mother and I are only two of the many people who live on the Island of Mist, a tropical island that has a boarder of thick fog to keep out those who are not welcome. Mother says those who come here don't want to be found, and I suppose it is true. We haven't had a visitor in 200 years according to Ms. Pearl, our elderly neighbor who has been here longer then anyone else.  Some of the citizens wish for new people to come just to have a little change, but I for one am very happy with how things are.
       This island has always been my home. I was born here and the farthest I've gotten to leaving was when I sailed my raft all the way up to the boarder. I'm sure I would of gone through if Mother hadn't of been there to pull me back. Sometimes I do wonder what it is like outside of the Island. Mother says that beyond the Island the world is filled with rotten people who believe the only answer is war. I doubt that it is true. Even though I am told not to think about such things, I do wonder sometimes what it is like away from here.
        Pushing the secret thoughts away, I grab clean garments from where they were drying and I head outside to clean myself.  As I walk, I dig my feet into the sand, spreading it in between my toes. When I make it to the ocean, the feeling of relief spreads throughout me as the water touches my feet. My veins feel electrified with ice as I step deeper into the water. Once waist—deep, I draw a breath and fully submerge into the sea.
      The numbing cold melts away after a few seconds, and I am flooded with warmth. I start to move around feeling the familiarity of no gravity weighing me down. I am utterly free. I skim my hands along the coral reef as I start to pick up speed. The fish join me as I perform the Dance of the Nayad, a traditional dance Mother taught me a while ago. Up on land whenever I try to dance I end up stumbling and tripping over my own two feet. But, underwater? I feel graceful and completely in control of how I move my body.
      Feeling the need for air, I end the dance and begin to float toward the surface. After filling my lungs, I dive under the waves a few more times, each round more exhilarating than the next. Not being able to continue any longer, I let the waves push me back toward the beach. As my feet make contact with the sand, I immediately feel my weight returning to me. I sigh as I gather my belongings and head back toward the house.
       When I reach the hut, I find Mother standing outside of the door. She is wearing a long dress that doesn't quiet touch the ground. It is made of leaves from the palm trees that dot the island. She is wearing her hair down in long silky waves which drew attention to her pointy chin that I had also inherited. In her hands are two empty woven baskets. With a smile she hands me one and starts to head toward the jungle that is behind the beach.  Without instructions, I follow behind her casting one last longing glance at the sea.