Ocean boulevard, which ran parallel to the ten miles of ocean-side property along the length of the city, was home to many resorts, restaurants, and the infamous SkyWheel, offering tourists and residents alike a stunning view of the sea from high in the air. But Ocean Boulevard wasn't just home to these sites; it was also home to a three-bedroom beach house hidden between two large skyscrapers. There, at 305 South Ocean Boulevard, sat my grandmother's old cottage, with its blue-green shutters sitting stark against the tan siding of the exterior. This was my home now, complete with half an acre of lush grass and a wooden gate that led straight to the powdery white sand overlooking the sea.
When I entered the beachside cottage, I felt the real mahogany flooring underneath my feet and the wood cabinetry in the kitchen across the room. I had immediately fallen in love with the open floor concept when I visited it years ago when my grandmother was still alive. Smiling to myself, I walked back out to grab my luggage; the moving truck would be here soon, and I was lucky to have convinced them to help move all my furniture and appliances—there was no way I'd be able to do that all on my own. Good thing I didn't have a lot of belongings. I guess it should only take me an afternoon to set up my entire house. Afterward, I planned to organize my guest bedrooms, filling them with comfy blue and white comforters and tons and tons of throw pillows. Not that I planned to have anyone over to sleep in the guest rooms, but who knew? I could always rent out a room to someone in the future.
Once I hung up my clothes in the closet, I heard the loud sound of a horn. Pulling the last shirt onto the hanger, I set it on the hook in my closet and turned around to walk back outside into the sea breeze in order to greet the movers who would help me this afternoon.
As I was locking the front door in its open position, my phone rang, letting out a soft tune before I made a grab for it out of my back pocket. I had texted my mother's best friend, Claire, earlier to let her know I had arrived safely. She had responded immediately, pleased that I had kept my word and gotten in touch with her. She offered to send her son, John, to help unload my furniture if it got to be too much for me. She had moved to South Carolina years ago and I had spent summers up here whenever I could. John had always been a brother to me and didn't mind showing me all the different things we could do on the coast. I guess that was one reason I had fallen in love with the ocean—the peace I felt and the desire to protect it all.
"Hey, Claire," I said, answering the call.
"Hello, dear. I was just wondering how you are getting on. Has the truck arrived yet? Do you need John to come help?" she drawled on the other side of the line, her southern accent hanging on every word.
"Oh, what great timing! The truck has just arrived. If you're sure John won't mind coming over, I can give you the address," I commented, smiling to one of the movers as he waved, walking around to the back of the truck to unlock the door. "I'm sure the guys would love an extra pair of hands."
"One second," she said in her cheery voice before she yelled at her son to get his big butt off the couch and help me move. I couldn't hear John's response from the background, but before I could ask what he said, Claire spoke again. "He'll be right over, dear."
"Alright," I said. "If he's sure, tell him I appreciate the help. He will be able to park in the driveway; there's plenty of room."
"He'll see you soon." She giggled at something I couldn't hear before hanging up.
"Good news, boys," I called to the movers, shaking my head before stuffing my phone back into my pocket. "Not only do you have me, but my friend is on his way to help too. We don't have to wait though; we can start now if y'all want." One of them nodded as he came behind me with a box. "Whatever the box is labeled, please set it in the designated room."
"Alright, ma'am," said one of the men. He wore a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and was carrying a box labeled "Dishes" in big black letters.
Just as I was about to grab another box, someone pulled into the driveway next to my blue truck. The white truck seemed to be identical to my own except for the color. The driver got out, messing with the cuff of his shirt before throwing a ball cap on, sunglasses resting on it just like his father always did.
"Hey, Annie!" John greeted as he came toward me, pulling me into a tight bear hug, just as he did every time he saw me. I had to admit, John was attractive with his fiery red hair that emphasized his pale skin that he had inherited from his mother. I had always seen him as a brother, though, even though his mother had always wished we would get together. "How have you been? You know, it's been years, and I was wondering how my baby sister was doing." His blue eyes sparkled when he said this, smiling down at me while he shielded his eyes from the sun.
"I'm older than you, John," I said matter-of-factly, resting my hand on my hip and looking up at him teasingly. "And aw, you missed me?"
"I'm still taller than you, so that makes you my baby sister."
I laughed. "Whatever, Johnny!" I teased. "Alright, are you ready to get to work?"
"I told you I hate that name," he hissed, only half angry. He looked back at me before reaching over to ruffle my hair, but failed when I swatted his hand away. "And yes, Anna, I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
"Alright, let's do this," I said, ignoring his comment as I grabbed a box from the trailer while John helped one mover grab the wooden china hutch that had been my grandmother's and then my mother's before they'd passed it on to me.
"Where would you like this?" they asked, passing me.
"Oh, just set it along the wall in the living room," I said, as I set the cardboard box on the kitchen counter.
In a few hours, we had all the furniture and appliances set up in the house. All I had left to do was put away my belongings, then grab groceries at Walmart. Grabbing my wallet from my purse, I handed the movers a twenty, then waved them off as John turned to me.
"Thank you, John, for your help," I said, looking him in the eyes as I smiled appreciatively.
"You're welcome." He smiled. "Do you need help unloading the boxes?"
"Um, if you want to?"
"I'd be happy to help my baby sister with her boxes," John said as we walked back inside and shut the door behind us.
"Oh hush," I called, following him. "I hate it when you tease!"
"You know you love me!" he shot back with a grin, opening one of the many boxes that lined the kitchen counters.
Two hours later, we finished decorating my home, filling the kitchen with all its utensils and dishware, and furnishing each bedroom with its respective dresser, bed, and bedding. Plopping down on the couch, I closed my eyes in contentment as I sighed, enjoying how my home looked and felt with me and my belongings in it. I looked up at John, who was lingering in the front entryway. "Thank you, again, John."
"You're welcome. If you need nothing else, I think I'm going to head home," he said, walking toward the front door.
Jumping off the couch, I grabbed my wallet and turned to John, throwing a ten into his hand before he could open the door.
"Oh, no, you don't need to pay me," he protested, trying to hand me back the money.
"Are you sure?" I asked. "That was like five hours of work!"
"My mother would kill me if she found out I accepted money from you," he mumbled. "It's fine, really."
"Okay," I replied, sticking the money back in my wallet. "Well, have a safe drive."
"Thanks." He smiled before hugging me quick and opening the front door to leave me alone in my new home. As the silence began to fill the room, I felt my mind begin to wonder to places I wished I would no longer think about: my nightmares of my parent's deaths. Suddenly, without thinking, they filled my vision, holding me captive as I remembered the day of my mother's crash. The devastation coursing through me when she was pronounced dead at the scene and how I had no idea I would lose my father a year later to cancer. I bit back the sob that threatened to escape my trembling lips and breathed in, desperately wishing I wouldn't think about them anymore even though my heart ached to see them again. I wanted to hear their laughter and smell my father's familiar aftershave. I wanted to take our monthly camping trip again. I wanted them here. When I heard John's engine turn over, I grabbed my purse and the grocery list I had made earlier and exited my beach home, locking the door behind me.
Throwing my purse onto the passenger seat, I quickly crawled into the driver's seat and shut the door. I started the truck, the roar of the engine making me smile before looking behind me at the sea and driving into town. I knew at that moment that this was the start of a new adventure, one that I couldn't wait to see what would happen next.
***
With a large huff, I dropped the seven sacks onto the dining room table, sweat dripping down my forehead, the weight from the groceries leaving my arms. Man, that was a lot, I didn't realize just how much I actually needed until I got to the store. Filling a kitchen all in one day is rough. Before emptying the sacks, I turned the television on, and the news played through the speakers that John had helped set up. I looked up as the news crew talked about the weather and the swell report for today's surf. I knew one of these days, I would learn how to surf, and I couldn't wait to get started. Maybe after I finished with my groceries, I could take a dip in the cool ocean that my home faced.
Shutting the fridge, I folded all of my cloth sacks and set them near the front door before heading to my bedroom to change into my swimsuit. Peeling off my clothes, I quickly changed and grabbed my beach bag from my closet. Throwing a towel into it, I padded into the kitchen to grab a few water bottles. Suddenly my stomach growled, urging me to eat something before I did anything else. Shaking my head, I made a sandwich, eating it in silence while I looked around the room, admiring the overwhelming amount of beach-themed décor that filled the home after years of collecting them, I could finally use them. I still wanted to go swimming, but knew as soon as the sun was gone, it was dangerous to swim alone.
After I ate, I slid the glass door open, stepping outside. Opening the wooden gate that would lead me to the white sandy beach behind my house, I instantly felt more at home than I ever had before. Pink and orange hues danced across the water, beckoning me closer to the stretch of water behind my home. My feet squished into the partially wet sand, tiny seashells littered the ground below me, leaving their unique print in the sand as I walked around them before my feet touched the water crawling toward me. Laying out my towel, I spun back to the water, grinning as I ran toward it.
Within moments, I was neck deep in the water, swimming happily while the waves rose and broke around me. I felt absolutely free here—that was, until I felt something scaly brush against my leg. I felt my heart stop as panic set in, staring down into the dark water while I tried to see what had just touched my leg.
Within seconds, whatever had touched me before brush against my skin again, making me lose my footing and drop fully into the water. I let out a scream only for it to muffle as the water cascaded over my face. Kicking my legs, I surfaced as quickly as I could, spitting out the saltwater as I drew in quick, panicked breaths. Looking around, I tried to swim away from the spot, feeling a little uneasy. I knew I shouldn't be scared—it was probably just a fish—but in the pit of my stomach, I wasn't exactly sure what this creature was. I knew from experience that sharks didn't have that texture on their bodies.
"Hello!" Someone called near me. I turned toward the low voice, finding myself face to face with a man I had never met. His eyes were silver, nearly white against the white of his eyes, and his long, black hair was wet, sticking to his head. The water seemed to calm around us. "Are you alright?" he asked.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
His brow furrowed, confusion filling his features. "Do you understand me?"
All I could do was nod, knowing that he shouldn't be here. This was a private beach and he was trespassing.
"Can you speak?" he persisted, swimming closer to me.
I felt the scaly creature brush up against my leg again. Panic consumed me as I swam away frantically.
"It's alright. I will not hurt you."
"What—why are you here? You aren't supposed to be here. This is a private beach," I rasped, panic lacing my tone. "Is that a fish? What keeps brushing against me?"
"I think it's just a fish," he replied.
"Okay, well, I would be mindful of where you swim next time," I said, making my way toward shore.
"Wait," he called. "What's your name?"
I turned, the water up to my waist, and smiled, unsure of what to tell him. I didn't want him to know my actual name was Anna, and I gave him my nickname instead. "Annie."
I watched as he mouthed my name back, a hint of a smile on his face. before I turned around and walked onto the shore, feeling the water run down my legs and seep, into the cooling sand. Grabbing my towel off the ground, I dried myself. Glancing back out to sea, I realized instantly that the man who had shown up unexpectedly, who I had just spoken to moments before, was now nowhere to be seen, almost as if he had never been there. All that was left were the waves crashing onto shore.
Confused, I stared at the ocean, my wet hair clinging to my shoulders and face, wondering if something had happened to him or if the creature had pulled him under. But he hadn't called out as if he was in trouble, and I would have been able to hear him if that were the case. As I stared, I wondered if I would ever see the mysterious man again or if he was just a figment of my imagination.
I remembered the feeling of the scaly creature brushing up against me and how quickly the man had arrived straight after it happened. I shook my head. I knew that what I was thinking wasn't likely, was crazy even, but only five percent of the earth's seas had been explored. He couldn't be a merman. It had probably just been a fish. I was being ridiculous. There were no such things as mermaids; they were just stories and nothing else.
When I stared back out to sea, I saw the faintest sign of a fluke breaking the surface, right before it disappeared back into the sea.
When I entered the beachside cottage, I felt the real mahogany flooring underneath my feet and the wood cabinetry in the kitchen across the room. I had immediately fallen in love with the open floor concept when I visited five months ago; it was the key feature that had convinced me to buy the home I hoped would be mine forever. Smiling to myself, I walked back out to grab my luggage; the moving truck would be here soon, and I was lucky to have convinced them to help move all my furniture and appliances—there was no way I'd be able to do that all on my own. Good thing I didn't have a lot of belongings. I guess it should only take me an afternoon to set up my entire house. Afterward, I planned to organize my guest bedrooms, filling them with comfy blue and white comforters and tons and tons of throw pillows. Not that I planned to have anyone over to sleep in the guest rooms, but who knew? I could always rent out a room to someone in the future.
Once I hung up my clothes in the closet, I heard the loud sound of a horn. Pulling the last shirt onto the hanger, I set it on the hook in my closet and turned around to walk back outside into the sea breeze in order to greet the movers who would help me this afternoon.
As I was locking the front door in its open position, my phone rang, letting out a soft tune before I made a grab for it out of my back pocket. I had texted my mother's best friend, Claire, earlier to let her know I had arrived safely. She had responded immediately, pleased that I had kept my word and gotten in touch with her. She offered to send her son, John, to help unload my furniture if it got to be too much for me. She had moved to South Carolina years ago and I had spent summers up here whenever I could. John had always been a brother to me and didn't mind showing me all the different things we could do on the coast. I guess that was one reason I had fallen in love with the ocean—the peace I felt and the desire to protect it all.
"Hey, Claire," I said, answering the call.
"Hello, dear. I was just wondering how you are getting on. Has the truck arrived yet? Do you need John to come help?" she drawled on the other side of the line, her southern accent hanging on every word.
"Oh, what great timing! The truck has just arrived. If you're sure John won't mind coming over, I can give you the address," I commented, smiling to one of the movers as he waved, walking around to the back of the truck to unlock the door. "I'm sure the guys would love an extra pair of hands."
"One second," she said in her cheery voice before she yelled at her son to get his big butt off the couch and help me move. I couldn't hear John's response from the background, but before I could ask what he said, Claire spoke again. "He'll be right over, dear."
"Alright," I said. "If he's sure, tell him I appreciate the help. He will be able to park in the driveway; there's plenty of room."
"He'll see you soon." She giggled at something I couldn't hear before hanging up.
"Good news, boys," I called to the movers, shaking my head before stuffing my phone back into my pocket. "Not only do you have me, but my friend is on his way to help too. We don't have to wait though; we can start now if y'all want." One of them nodded as he came behind me with a box. "Whatever the box is labeled, please set it in the designated room."
"Alright, ma'am," said one of the men. He wore a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and was carrying a box labeled "Dishes" in big black letters.
Just as I was about to grab another box, someone pulled into the driveway next to my blue truck. The white truck seemed to be identical to my own except for the color. The driver got out, messing with the cuff of his shirt before throwing a ball cap on, sunglasses resting on it just like his father always did.
"Hey, Annie!" John greeted as he came toward me, pulling me into a tight bear hug, just as he did every time he saw me. I had to admit, John was attractive with his fiery red hair that emphasized his pale skin that he had inherited from his mother. I had always seen him as a brother, though, even though his mother had always wished we would get together. "How have you been? You know, it's been years, and I was wondering how my baby sister was doing." His blue eyes sparkled when he said this, smiling down at me while he shielded his eyes from the sun.
"I'm older than you, John," I said matter-of-factly, resting my hand on my hip and looking up at him teasingly. "And aw, you missed me?"
"I'm still taller than you, so that makes you my baby sister."
I laughed. "Whatever, Johnny!" I teased. "Alright, are you ready to get to work?"
"I told you I hate that name," he hissed, only half angry. He looked back at me before reaching over to ruffle my hair, but failed when I swatted his hand away. "And yes, Anna, I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
"Alright, let's do this," I said, ignoring his comment as I grabbed a box from the trailer while John helped one mover grab the wooden china hutch that had been my grandmother's and then my mother's before they'd passed it on to me.
"Where would you like this?" they asked, passing me.
"Oh, just set it along the wall in the living room," I said, as I set the cardboard box on the kitchen counter.
In a few hours, we had all the furniture and appliances set up in the house. All I had left to do was put away my belongings, then grab groceries at Walmart. Grabbing my wallet from my purse, I handed the movers a twenty, then waved them off as John turned to me.
"Thank you, John, for your help," I said, looking him in the eyes as I smiled appreciatively.
"You're welcome." He smiled. "Do you need help unloading the boxes?"
"Um, if you want to?"
"I'd be happy to help my baby sister with her boxes," John said as we walked back inside and shut the door behind us.
"Oh hush," I called, following him. "I hate it when you tease!"
"You know you love me!" he shot back with a grin, opening one of the many boxes that lined the kitchen counters.
Two hours later, we finished decorating my home, filling the kitchen with all its utensils and dishware, and furnishing each bedroom with its respective dresser, bed, and bedding. Plopping down on the couch, I closed my eyes in contentment as I sighed, enjoying how my home looked and felt with me and my belongings in it. I looked up at John, who was lingering in the front entryway. "Thank you, again, John."
"You're welcome. If you need nothing else, I think I'm going to head home," he said, walking toward the front door.
Jumping off the couch, I grabbed my wallet and turned to John, throwing a ten into his hand before he could open the door.
"Oh, no, you don't need to pay me," he protested, trying to hand me back the money.
"Are you sure?" I asked. "That was like five hours of work!"
"My mother would kill me if she found out I accepted money from you," he mumbled. "It's fine, really."
"Okay," I replied, sticking the money back in my wallet. "Well, have a safe drive."
"Thanks." He smiled before hugging me quick and opening the front door to leave me alone in my new home. As the silence began to fill the room, I felt my mind begin to wonder to places I wished I would no longer think about: my nightmares of my parent's deaths. Suddenly, without thinking, they filled my vision, holding me captive as I remembered the day of my mother's crash. The devastation coursing through me when she was pronounced dead at the scene and how I had no idea I would lose my father a year later to cancer. I bit back the sob that threatened to escape my trembling lips and breathed in, desperately wishing I wouldn't think about them anymore even though my heart ached to see them again. I wanted to hear their laughter and smell my father's familiar aftershave. I wanted to take our monthly camping trip again. I wanted them here. When I heard John's engine turn over, I grabbed my purse and the grocery list I had made earlier and exited my beach home, locking the door behind me.
Throwing my purse onto the passenger seat, I quickly crawled into the driver's seat and shut the door. I started the truck, the roar of the engine making me smile before looking behind me at the sea and driving into town. I knew at that moment that this was the start of a new adventure, one that I couldn't wait to see what would happen next.
***
With a large huff, I dropped the seven sacks onto the dining room table, sweat dripping down my forehead, the weight from the groceries leaving my arms. Man, that was a lot, I didn't realize just how much I actually needed until I got to the store. Filling a kitchen all in one day is rough. Before emptying the sacks, I turned the television on, and the news played through the speakers that John had helped set up. I looked up as the news crew talked about the weather and the swell report for today's surf. I knew one of these days, I would learn how to surf, and I couldn't wait to get started. Maybe after I finished with my groceries, I could take a dip in the cool ocean that my home faced.
Shutting the fridge, I folded all of my cloth sacks and set them near the front door before heading to my bedroom to change into my swimsuit. Peeling off my clothes, I quickly changed and grabbed my beach bag from my closet. Throwing a towel into it, I padded into the kitchen to grab a few water bottles. Suddenly my stomach growled, urging me to eat something before I did anything else. Shaking my head, I made a sandwich, eating it in silence while I looked around the room, admiring the overwhelming amount of beach-themed décor that filled the home after years of collecting them, I could finally use them. I still wanted to go swimming, but knew as soon as the sun was gone, it was dangerous to swim alone.
After I ate, I slid the glass door open, stepping outside. Opening the wooden gate that would lead me to the white sandy beach behind my house, I instantly felt more at home than I ever had before. Pink and orange hues danced across the water, beckoning me closer to the stretch of water behind my home. My feet squished into the partially wet sand, tiny seashells littered the ground below me, leaving their unique print in the sand as I walked around them before my feet touched the water crawling toward me. Laying out my towel, I spun back to the water, grinning as I ran toward it.
Within moments, I was neck deep in the water, swimming happily while the waves rose and broke around me. I felt absolutely free here—that was, until I felt something scaly brush against my leg. I felt my heart stop as panic set in, staring down into the dark water while I tried to see what had just touched my leg.
Within seconds, whatever had touched me before brush against my skin again, making me lose my footing and drop fully into the water. I let out a scream only for it to muffle as the water cascaded over my face. Kicking my legs, I surfaced as quickly as I could, spitting out the saltwater as I drew in quick, panicked breaths. Looking around, I tried to swim away from the spot, feeling a little uneasy. I knew I shouldn't be scared—it was probably just a fish—but in the pit of my stomach, I wasn't exactly sure what this creature was. I knew from experience that sharks didn't have that texture on their bodies.
"Hello!" Someone called near me. I turned toward the low voice, finding myself face to face with a man I had never met. His eyes were silver, nearly white against the white of his eyes, and his long, black hair was wet, sticking to his head. The water seemed to calm around us. "Are you alright?" he asked.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
His brow furrowed, confusion filling his features. "Do you understand me?"
All I could do was nod, knowing that he shouldn't be here. This was a private beach and he was trespassing.
"Can you speak?" he persisted, swimming closer to me.
I felt the scaly creature brush up against my leg again. Panic consumed me as I swam away frantically.
"It's alright. I will not hurt you."
"What—why are you here? You aren't supposed to be here. This is a private beach," I rasped, panic lacing my tone. "Is that a fish? What keeps brushing against me?"
"I think it's just a fish," he replied.
"Okay, well, I would be mindful of where you swim next time," I said, making my way toward shore.
"Wait," he called. "What's your name?"
I turned, the water up to my waist, and smiled, unsure of what to tell him. I didn't want him to know my actual name was Anna, and I gave him my nickname instead. "Annie."
I watched as he mouthed my name back, a hint of a smile on his face. before I turned around and walked onto the shore, feeling the water run down my legs and seep, into the cooling sand. Grabbing my towel off the ground, I dried myself. Glancing back out to sea, I realized instantly that the man who had shown up unexpectedly, who I had just spoken to moments before, was now nowhere to be seen, almost as if he had never been there. All that was left were the waves crashing onto shore.
Confused, I stared at the ocean, my wet hair clinging to my shoulders and face, wondering if something had happened to him or if the creature had pulled him under. But he hadn't called out as if he was in trouble, and I would have been able to hear him if that were the case. As I stared, I wondered if I would ever see the mysterious man again or if he was just a figment of my imagination.
I remembered the feeling of the scaly creature brushing up against me and how quickly the man had arrived straight after it happened. I shook my head. I knew that what I was thinking wasn't likely, was crazy even, but only five percent of the earth's seas had been explored. He couldn't be a merman. It had probably just been a fish. I was being ridiculous. There were no such things as mermaids; they were just stories and nothing else.
When I stared back out to sea, I saw the faintest sign of a fluke breaking the surface, right before it disappeared back into the sea.
----
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