He Swam Across the Sea

I twist my hands, clenching my fingers as I wring salty sea water out of my hair. I release a sigh, wincing into the sunlight and digging my toes into the sand. Beads of water drip from my body. I shake my head, sending long pink strands of hair whipping back and forth until I finally stop, the sheet of cotton candy-colored threads coming to rest on my shoulders. Before this, I was not even aware of the length of my hair, which goes down to the middle of my back. Nor was I aware of the fact that it’s pink, which is unusual for normal humans.

With cerise orbs, I avert my attention out onto the infinite expanse of crashing waves that spray white sea foam into the salty air. I tilt my head as I sink into ponderous thought. I can hear humans in the distance, the more peaceful humans. Will they ever know what lies miles out the sea? Will anyone know about my escape? I imagine someone must know about me. And about the island off the coast, filled with a cell for one and a few hundred dead guards.

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