The Shortlisted Story
This story was entered into a monthly open competition – the only requirement was for the story to be under 1500 words. This comes in at 1246.
This is based on a true event that happened to me, but dramatised with names and people changed. It isn’t perfect, and reading it now a few years after writing the piece, I can see that.
The Story – The Windmill
Claire winces as the heat of the gritty sand itches at her skin as she reaches into the sinking sand and pulls out a solitary white flip-flop, before it is lost forever. She places it neatly on her beach town, perfectly lined up next to the second in its pair. She pulls her socks off and holds them tightly in each hand as she scrunches her toes up in the hot sand, for a moment enjoyin the moment, before the heat makes her legs recoil involuntarily. She folded her socks perfectly, and placed them into the side pocket of her backpack, safe and sound away from the wind of the cove and the sandpipers notorious for stealing the socks of absent minded children and taking them back to their nests for soft furnishings.
Claire’s cousin, Craig, being one of those absent minded children, pulls off his socks and throws them in the vague direction of his belongings. Strewn across his crumpled towel, his belongings become a pick and mix of treats for the taking.
Craig repeatedly taps his foot on the back of a plastic spade beneath his feet, causing Claire to roll her eyes at her cousin’s impatience. She carries on at the same speed, thinking Craig may be 2 years older than her, in double digits no less, but she won’t rush for anyone. She pulls her rainbow windmill from her backpack and zips it back up as she turns back to her cousin.
‘Race you!’ she says quickly, shocking Craig into a race he was not prepared for. Claire gets a head start as Craig trips over his towel beneath him but he soon catches her up, right as she makes it to the water’s edge and pushes her in.
The beach is fairly quiet considering it was the height of summer in South Portugal, but this particular cove is hidden away from the tourist trapped Algarve, and a favourite of Claire’s mum and step-dad. This is the third year in a row they’ve visited Portugal and regularly spend days at a time in this particular cove. The beach is almost a full circle around the deep blue of the atlantic ocean, spilling into the almost fully enclosed cove. A stone bridge runs over the top of the narrow gap leading to the ocean, and tourists are regularly spotted taking pictures of the picturesque cove. Including Claire mum and step-dad, who decided to go for a walk into the village half a mile up the road, to get the children cans of overpriced fizzy drink while Claire’s Auntie Tracy kept an eye on her son and niece.
Claire pushes herself up on the wet sand beneath the sea, and turns to her cousin, who is laughing hysterically, proud of himself. She decides against retaliation and instead walks past him and sits in the shallow water, watching happily as her windmill spins in the breeze, spitting salty water onto her face after its adventure under water. It’s refreshing on her burning skin, so Clair dunks the windmill back under the surface then brings it back into the breeze just as quickly. She closes her eyes to enjoy the feeling, which reminds her of the spray bottle at the hairdresser her mum took her two weeks before the holiday. Suddenly, she feels the windmill being pulled from her hand and pulls her back to reality. She opens her eyes and looks around frantically for the culprit. When her eyes land on the hand now holding her favourite souvenir, she realises she should have known.
Craig.
She uses all her strength to splash water as she starts shouting, ‘GIVE ME IT BACK CRAIG!’. Her voice sounds more whiny than she had hoped, as she feels the tears fill up in her eyes, eventually clouding over her vision before falling and splashing lightly into the water. Craig giggles manically as he swims further out into the ocean with Claire’s prized possession.
Claire follows him, tears now streaming down her pink face, stinging where they trail over the burnt apples of her cheeks. As she pushes against the current trying to catch up with her cousin, she suddenly loses her footing as the ground opens up beneath her. The shallow ocean now deepened beyond her slender frame. She panics as her feet drag her body beneath the surface and she waves frantically trying to pull herself to the surface. She manages it for a moment and looks around her for Craig, who is now further out and calling to her.
‘What’s taking you so long, don’t you want your windmill Claire’ he taunts.
Claire tries to remember what she’s been taught in her school swimming lessons, and kicks her legs back like a frog, as her arms splash wildly on the surface. It works for a moment, propelling her towards her cousin and she sees the realisation flash across his face, before he scowls back at her and swims further away. Claire’s legs suddenly feel weighty and she struggles to keep the momentum of swimming, inexperienced and nervous, she begins to panic.
Claire clenches her eyes and mouth shut as she slips further under the surface, her limbs waving frantically as she struggles to pull herself back up. She starts to tire and feels her mind slip into sleep as her legs slow beneath her. Her attention rushes back and she can feel herself being pulled down by what feels like a rope wrapped around her calf.
Seaweed. Claire tries to kick it away but in her panic forgets where she is and takes a breath, swallowing a mouthful of water that sends her into a coughing fit.
As Claire chokes on water as it fills her mouth and before she completely loses consciousness, she feels the arms of an adult, strong and stable, pull her to safety. As she breaks the surface of the water, the breeze of the salty air shocks her and she coughs violently, trying to catch her breath. She tries to open her eyes, but the sun blinds her and she closes them tightly shut just as quickly.
Before she can try again, she feels herself being placed on the ground, on a rough towel settled on lumpy sand. It digs into her back and she tries to shift her weight.
Claire opens her eyes and sees the face of a strange man staring back at her, he speaks to her in a language she doesn’t understand and she can feel the panic rising in her chest. She looks around for a familiar face but doesn’t have to look far as her auntie rushes to her side and strokes her face.
‘You’re okay, darlin’,’ she says softly, ‘you’re okay.’
Claire starts to open her mouth to respond but is shocked to hear another familiar voice bellowing across the beach.
‘Claire! What the fuck happened!’ it’s her step-dad, and his face comes into view at the same time as Craig, who looks terrified at what’s just happened.
Her auntie explains what she saw happen, as Craig tries to apologise to everyone. Claire’s step-dad screams and swears at her cousin, as she is wrapped up in a bundle of towels by her mum, and brought onto her lap, like she was a toddler after a bath and not a 9 year old after drowning. She tries to ignore the shouting and closes her eyes, nuzzling her forehead into the chest of her mum.
Safe at last.