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*Author’s Note: To all of you that have so patiently been waiting for me to update this (assuming, of course, that there are people who read this regularly), I would like to thank you, and apologize as well. I have no excuse sans laziness for my absence, and I really hope to keep these spans where I don’t write to a minimum. Anyway, the story’s going to begin to get a little more intense from here on out. I’m afraid there’s very little of Elijah in here, but this chapter is needed to move the story. Anyway, I’ll be updating again soon. I promise.*
Ao crisscrossed the charcoal over the canvas; no real picture in her mind that she was trying to shape. She drew for the sake of drawing, today-needed to leave all thought of the rational world behind. Elijah would be asking for answers later, and in no way was she prepared to find them for him. Skritch, skritch. She felt whole, now, sitting in the sand of the beach with her art in her lap. Skritch, skritch. It was enough to make her forget that things were never going to be the same again.
Ao tried not to think of that; tried not to wonder if this would be the last time she'd ever be able to relax here, the shore counting the gray water's repetition. The waves lapped up just over the lands edge, and retreated, taking hostage shells and rocks. The pelicans swooped into the ocean, their bag-like beaks filling with water and fish, then bobbing just over the water to the nearest rock to eat at. Dolphins tossed themselves in the air, and laughed with one another through the day. This was all a world that Ao had no choice but to know, and had never considered another way. These things happened around her without catching her attention. She had always had tomorrow to watch them.
Ao noticed these things, today, as if fearing the thought of never getting to watch these intricate details one last time. She wondered idly if perhaps she'd draw one of those things, one of the things that mattered most.
Skritch skritch.
She hardly noticed as the two mediums pressed on against the other, their friction leaving stark black lines in relief to their backdrop, and scratching through the air.
Skritch, skritch.
She pulled her eyes away from the paper, her hand still working as if in routine. The charcoal had long since begun moving at its own accord, making its own agenda across the canvas. "Line here," the charcoal would occasionally whisper to her in a voice that only the starving artists may here. "And here, and make this line thicker," he would say, and her hand would oblige willingly. The charcoal seemed to grin at his own creation.
The muscles in her hands ached when they knew a line was missing, and hurried to fix it. Line here. Skritch skritch. Thicker. Skritch.
Soon, there were no individual lines, only clumps and masses that had begun banding themselves together with thick ropes of lines. A picture began to emerge on the paper, and still Ao could not find in her mind's eye what it was she was drawing.
Skritch, Skritch.
Some part of her must've known, however, because there was a familiar quake in her hand that insisted she darken this line a little, and curve that one out just a tad. No, no, too much, it told her, and she pulled her hand closer, straightening the curve she was about to draw. Perfect, the feeling said to her, perfect.
Ao looked at the drawing, seeing what had been born through her hands and fingers and charcoal, and recoiled sharply. Two great, sunken eyes watched her, their depths, even in a crude, charcoal drawing, were astounding, stretching for eons beyond the paper. They were imprisoned by weathered and wrinkled skin that caved in too many places. Folds of skin hung over each other, fighting for room on the old face. A mouth glowered at her, a half-maniacal smirk that set off alarms in Ao's head. Three teeth protruded the closed mouth, dripping out onto the lower lip like foam. The face was suspended there, in midair, with no shoulders to support it. And though she had only just drawn it, it was not a new sight to her. Ao was certain she'd never seen this woman before on this island, and Ao herself had never been anywhere else. Still though, the feeling of de ja vu was strong; strong enough to make her skin break out into gooseflesh.
Skritch, skritch. This time, it was not charcoal against paper, only paper on paper as the corners were blown back by the wind. Ao, however irrational it sounded, had the feeling that the face were trying to come out; as if it were pulling at the paper as a means to free itself.
All the while that Ao was lost in the picture, the rush of the waves, the hum of the insects, and the breath of the wind was repeating ugly, forbidden words that had Ao heard, would've made her hold her ears in terror.
Or perhaps she wouldn't have. Perhaps after they had burnt her tongue, Ao had grown somehow accustomed to them, as if she'd built up the antibodies against them.
With an anger that Ao could not later explain, she tore the paper from her sketch pad, and balled it up into a crinkled mess. She chucked the paper ball as hard as she could at the ocean, watched as it hit the sand and bounced, and as a new wave met the shore and carried it off into the water. She would've smiled at this; smiled at the defeat of her monster on the paper, except for the words that echoed from ocean to the mountains and back again.
Ao dropped to her knees, and a cry that was both primal and modern erupted from some part of her throat. To any onlooker, she'd have seemed a devika-the legendary half human half demon children that came to wreak havoc on the earth. Her legs were folded neatly beneath her, and her hair was strewn about, being blown in circles by the wind. What light was able to protrude the fleshy clouds seemed drawn to her, like a magnet to iron, and created a pool of luminous rays the rebounded off the sand.
Ao screamed again, this time, her hands gathered up sand, and threw the clumps as hard as she could at the ocean, which retaliated with a wave of indignation. Ao screamed louder at it, her voice raw and impassioned. She found a stone and hurled it into the sea, watched as it made a small splash that really made no difference in the end. Enraged with this knowledge, and not quite sure why, Ao found a shell and another stone and a stick and threw them all into the boiling sea that accepted each easily, and tossed its own force back at the land.
Ao lifted her head, and sent one glare to the heavens before closing her eyes, and screaming at them one last time; cursing them as they had her. She screamed no word, no profanity, and for that reason, the sound was altogether more obscene.
Ao would've later sworn it had come from the ocean-her old friend turned new foe; a cackling that sent shivers down her spine. She imagined her crumpled drawing, floating back to her own the waves, those horrible, sunken eyes watching her and taunting her and mocking her with their depth that she could never match in life. Ao took a daring step into the ocean, could feel the pull of the waves and the shifting sand beneath her toes. She took another step, treading ankle deep, now.
Just as she was preparing to take another step, a hand caught her by the shoulder. She allowed herself to be spun around, but pushed away from the person before seeing who it was. Kewena was there, watching her, half concerned and half amused. She heard a low rumble in his chest, and made the connection that he'd been the one laughing. She found nothing amusing.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Kew?" She brushed off her shorts even though she knew there was nothing left on them.
Kewena studied Ao's face a moment, finding the tear-paths crusted and dried over. He reached to wipe them away anyway, but Ao ducked away from the touch.
"What are you doing here, Kevin?" She had always used his real name-his English birth name-whenever she was mad at him. She hadn't lately; wasn't really sure how he'd react. However he may, though, she was certain she didn't care.
Kewena's eyes went wide before he cleared his throat, trying to swallow his surprise. "I saw you down here on my way to Pua's. I guess I just came down to see if you wanted to come..." Ao didn't respond, just watched as the waves rushed to meet the shore, where they sent off flicks of spray in every direction. Kewena hemmed, hoping to catch Ao's eye. She didn't look, however, an act that took immense will power and determination. "Right, then." Kewena shifted his feet uncomfortably. "So... What were you doing in the water anyway? The undertow's 'oia insane. It's wicked enough to take you under. Even Kilika won't swim today."
"Really?" Ao wasn't enthused, and didn't look over.
However, the simple fact that she'd responded sent electric shocks of hope through Kewena. "Yeah. There's a storm coming I guess, and..." He looked at Ao, disappointed to see that her attention had been drawn back to the ocean. "What's out there anyway?"
"The ugliest hag I've ever seen," Ao replied, ignoring his quizzical look. "I think she tried to kill me."
Kewena didn't know what to say, but found a somewhat patronizing "Ao..." slipping off his tongue.
"No, it's true," she assured him. "She was in my head. I think I let her out." Ao shivered, a bit of spray catching her as it rebounded off the rocks.
Neither Ao nor Kewena said anything for long moments. The tension grew stronger as the ocean grew grayer and the skies grew darker. Neither moved, perhaps in fear of initiating the conversation both knew would have to begin.
"Look, Ao..."
"Kew..."
They'd both begun at the same time, and laughed, each remembering those dozens of times they'd done that before. Ao inched a little nearer Kewena, not realizing her motions until too late. 'Oh well,' she'd figured, 'what can a little less distance do?'
Kewena looked at Ao, his eyes pleading with her to be patient a moment. He cleared his throat again, and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Ao... I just... I mean, we need to..." He stopped, took a deep breath, and recollected his thoughts. "What happened, Ao? What happened?"
Ao moved back three steps from him. "You know as well as I do. Fuck, you know better than I do, don't you Kew? At least you know her name..."
"Oh come on, Ao! We worked through that! We were passed that, and closer because of it... Weren't we?" He was pleading with her now, begging her to agree, and nestle her head into the crook of his arm.
"You! You, Kew! You're my problem! You're everyone's problem! You're even Maleko's problem! Don't you get that? Can't you see? Goddamn, you! You're my biggest mistake, and I regret ever KNOWING you more than anything in the WORLD. Do you understand that? I hate you, Kewena! I hate you!" The words hung in the air like Christmas ornaments, suspended by invisible branches that hung the tension as well.
Kewena took a step closer to her, reaching for her shoulder. She ducked the other way, and felt water on her foot again. Again, Kewena pounced, and Ao took another step deeper into the water.
Already, she could feel the undertow, and the sand moved a little with it beneath her feet. She buried he toes in the sand, as if to anchor them there. Kewena finally caught up to her, and grabbed her shoulder, leaving red indentions where he touched.
"I'm NOT you're girl, Kevin!" Again with his real name, and at it, she could see his eyes flare up. Good. "I haven't BEEN your girl in a long time, Kevin! He has all the right in the world--and his name's Orlando, not Oreo." She supposed correcting him on the tourist's name would do more harm than good, but her senses were split up, searching for a way out, and things to say, and weapons to use.
Kewena was seething by now, his grip tightening and tightening, but Ao refused to flinch; refused to give him the pleasure. Her lips pursed tightly together, drawing into a thin pink line, and red hazy spots were beginning to show in her vision.
Skritch, skritch, she imagined, this time the friction of the warm front meeting this cold front.
"Orlando," he drawled, and he laughed bitterly. His head swung upwards, and when it did, for just a moment, his grip loosened. Ao took the opportunity and bit him as hard as she could, holding her teeth in place until she tasted blood. She darted away from him, trying to run along the beach instead of further out, but the undertow was pushing her, and before long, she was up to her waste in cold water.
Twice she slipped, and once she'd caught her hand on a sharp rock, slicing it open and salt seeping in. She cried out, but knew she didn't have time to stay low on the ground. Run, Run, she told herself.
Skritch skritch said her mind.
Ao was up to her armpits before she allowed herself a chance to stop and rest. Kewena was on the beach, still only knee deep, and wading out to her.
A wave hit her, then. Only a small one, but enough to make her remind her where she was. A few feet behind that one, a larger one was barreling towards her. The angry water began to fold itself, and instead of waiting for it to hit her in the face, Ao ducked beneath it, as she would've done had she been surfing.
'Please,' Ao thought, 'Please, let someone be there, let someone help me!' As if to answer her prayers, her eyes went to the hill, and by the fence post, she saw Elijah. She could scarcely make him out from where she was, but instinctively knew it was him.
"Elijah!" She called, not sure her voice reached his ears. "Please! Elijah! Help me!"
A small wave hit her in the face, and she swallowed a mouth full of salt water-something she hadn't been clumsy enough to do in years. She sputtered a moment, the taste so terrible that it overcame her.
"Elijah!" She called again, this time louder. Ao was certain he'd heard her.
Elijah watched her a moment, and smiled. He took a long drag of his cigarette before he stomped it out on the ground, grinding it into the sand with his toe. He waved at her, and blew her a kiss before turning, and heading the opposite way, ignoring the girl in trouble.
Ao felt tears forming in her eyes, and desperately wanted to let them climb down her cheeks. A wave came, then, and pulled her down beneath the surface. She clawed at the sea, not daring to open her eyes in fear of what she may see. The waves tossed her like a rag doll, pulling at her limbs, and making it impossible to find which way was up. Panic began to fill her stomach, and she began to wonder if she'd EVER find her way to the air again...
Her head came above the water, and she swallowed a deep gulp of air. Sputtering, she began to tread the water, not bothering to try to touch the floor of the ocean. She was sure she still could, but was afraid to try and not be able to. She began to pull herself towards a nearby peninsula.
Only a few moments later, he hand caught something-soggy, and soft, feeling as though it were beginning to pull away from itself and decay. She grabbed it, and looked at the object that had obstructed her path. When she saw the picture again-her hag, her monster-she nearly retched. Another wave came over her, and pushed her down to the ocean floor, picture still tight in her hand. She was right not to try touching the ground, however. Her legs never would've reached.
~*~
Vote and the next time you go to Hawaii Elijah will make pleasant conversation with you on a deserted beach ... leave comments and you'll almost drown and he'll give you CPR.
"It's that tourist, isn't it?" He sounded disgusted, and had there been any truth to what he was saying, Ao would've understood why. Hawaiian tradition was to marry to those on the island, not to outsiders. "You're falling for a fucking po'e maka'ika'i."
