The Beach, in Five Stages

     Camille watched the waves crash over the golden sands of her home, Mystery Island. She was no longer crying, as she was pretty sure she had cried every tear available to her. She couldn’t believe it. Her father was gone. It had happened slowly at first, then all at once, so she hadn't seen it coming.

     Through somewhat blurry eyes, Camille saw two young Lupes skipping happily down towards the waves, their joy writ large across their faces. How could it be that these two Lupes existed in the same Neopia that had just lost her dad?

      Not quite ten years ago, a younger Camille was playing on the very same beach. The then seven-year-old Mynci darted in and out of the waves, enjoying the feel of the cool water and foam on her toes. She noticed her fingers had begun to wrinkle, so she began the sandy trudge back up the sand to where her father was waiting.

     “How did you go?” He asked with a grin.

     “The water is so warm, Dad! Why won’t you come in?” Camille questioned in reply.

     “I’m ok out here for now. I think I probably prefer to watch the waves rather than to be amongst them.”

     They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the steady pulse of the ocean. Camille sighed.

     “I wish I could live here, Dad,” she said.

     “What do you mean? We do live here,” her father chuckled.

     “I mean here here, like on the beach here, not just Mystery Island. I don’t want to have to go to school, I don’t want to work, I just want to play in the waves forever.”

     “Well, that might not be possible, Millie, but if ever things get too stressful in the real world, at least you know the beach is not too far away. And always remember, stress is temporary, it ebbs and flows just like the waves. Let it come and let it go.”

     Stage 2

     Present-day Camille was not about to let anything go. This was so unfair. She sat and she sobbed and sobbed (it turned out there were a few more tears left to cry after all). She cursed the sand, she cursed the waves, she cursed the playing Lupes, oblivious to her pain, she cursed the whole island, whose every inch reminded her of the hole in her heart caused by the loss of her father.

      When Camille was ten, a particularly obnoxious Usul had raised her ire in the lunch hall at school.

     “Camille, what kind of name is that anyway? What were your parents thinking?” the Usul taunted.

     Camille said nothing.

     “It’s kind of old fashioned, don’t you think?” the Usul continued, “Like something you might have heard during the first Battle of Meridell?”

     Camille stood up, and, without saying a word, poured the contents of her milk carton over the Usul’s head.

     It was the first, and only time Camille had to be collected early from school, and she could still remember the disappointed look on her father’s face as he had entered the school office.

     They walked home in silence most of the way until Camille worked up the strength to utter a soft, “I’m sorry…”

     Her dad sighed, and said nothing, so she continued.

     “She just makes me so angry, it’s so unfair, she’s always picking on me, making comments about my name, the way I look, I can’t help it – “

     “You can always help it, you always have a choice, Camille. We can’t always control our thoughts and feelings, but we can always control our actions,” He interrupted.

     Camille kicked a rock angrily in response.

     “You don’t get it; you’ll never get it. Why do you have to try to turn everything into a lesson, can’t you just be on my side?” she pouted.

     “Just doing my job, Millie. One day you’ll see, I am on your side.”

     Stage 3

     Camille recoiled at this memory. How disappointed her father must have been. Perhaps, if she had been a better daughter, less of a handful, he would have been able to worry less and live longer. She watched the Lupes playing. What she wouldn’t give to go back to being that age, when things were simpler, and her father was still here.

      Camille’s father had always been very active. When she was 13, her and her father had taken an outrigger canoe to the rock pools, off the coast of the main island. As the boat skipped across the gentle waves, and her father did the paddling, Camille admired the way the sea birds seemed to hover in the air. While her attention was focused upwards, she missed the particularly large wave approaching, and the bump it caused sent her tumbling out of the canoe.

     She immediately started trying to paddle back to the canoe, but her dad stopped her.

     “Just float, Millie, you’re trying to swim against a current and you’ll just tire yourself out. Go with the current, I will too, and then you can get back in, no problem,” he said, calmly.

     And he was right. She stopped fighting against the waves and, before she knew it, her dad was effortlessly scooping her out of the sea and back into the canoe.

     “Thanks Dad,” Camille panted, out of breath from the ordeal.

     “Just doing my job,” her dad replied.

      Stage 4

     It was no use. Happy memory, sad memory, they all ended the same way, affected her the same way. Camille wished she could turn her memories off, but she had no choice in the matter. As the sky began to darken over the ocean, so too did her mood, and she found herself descending into a well of sadness. She began to cry once more.

      By the time Camille turned 16, it was clear her father was unwell. Where once her dad had been strong enough to paddle them out to the rock pools, now she was doing most of the paddling each time they went. Camille was aware that her father was becoming increasingly self-conscious of this, and so began to suggest trips and activities that wouldn’t remind him of his ailing body. One place they had never visited, despite living on Mystery Island for all their lives, was Geraptiku. In what would be one of their last journeys together, though of course there was no way of knowing that for certain at the time, they packed their bags and set a course to the north of the island.

     As they pushed through the dense jungle and glimpsed the ancient city for the first time, they both gasped. What really struck Camille was just how dark it was. The dense canopy of trees gave the whole place the impression of being stuck in perpetual midnight. The darkness also brought with it a cold that lingered and stuck to her skin, that filled her lungs with every breath. She was grateful for the presence of her father.

     Obviously, the first point of exploration was the deserted tomb. Its hulking mass loomed above the rest of the city with a foreboding presence that demanded attention. Camille approached the ornate stone door to the tomb. She ran her hand over the intricate detail, before pushing it, hard. The door opened. Together, the two explorers descended the staircase, into the dark abyss below.

     Suddenly her dad grabbed her shoulders.

     “Millie, get down!” he said, urgently. She did, confused. Moments later, arrows whizzed through the air, narrowly missing her. She had stepped on an arrow trap, without realising.

     “Whoa, that was a close one, thanks Dad!”

     “Just doing my job,” he said.

     Stage 5

     Camille was stirred from her memories by the sounds of cries from the water’s edge.

     “Help! Help my brother!”

     The call came from one of the two young Lupes, who was panicked and pointing to the other Lupe, who was flailing about in the ocean.

     “I think he’s caught in a rip! Please, he’s not a strong swimmer, and neither am I!” the young Lupe pleaded to Camille, when it was obvious her attention had been gained.

     Camille jumped up and ran to the water's edge. The Lupe was trying to swim back to shore, against the current.

     “Stop swimming this way!” Camille called, “Swim along the shore, with the current, not against it!”

     The Lupe began to paddle parallel to the shoreline, as Camille had instructed. Camille jumped in and swam up alongside him, then helped him ashore.

     When they were both back on solid ground, and the Lupe had caught his breath and reunited with his sibling, he thanked Camille effusively.

     “I can’t believe it, thank you so much. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here!” he said.

     “Just doing m - ” Camille began replying automatically, then caught herself. She realised that, in all the commotion, for the first time since his passing, she hadn’t been actively thinking of her father. She smiled to herself, another first in a while.

     “Just doing my job,” she said again, confidently.

     Maybe her father was not quite as gone as she had thought.

     Camille sat back down on the beach, took a deep breath, and watched the waves wash along the shore.

     She let them come, and she let them go.

     The End.