The Woman on the Crag

She awoke to the stir of the sea, the shutters on the wharf blowing in the night breeze. It was past midnight, the moon hanging in her window. She looked forward, the windows open to the ocean and its splendors. The pur of the sea filled the air and she smiled. She felt the soft hand glide against her leg and she turned, smiling. She expected the soft eyes of her husband, his stubble scratching along her face. She anticipated soft lips and a prominent nose, the familiar scar on his cheek and sandy blonde hair. But she was sadly surprised. Her husband's idealistic body had morphed into a blubbery form, with eyes squeezed shut and cheeks bloated. The odor of obesity exuded from his body, filling the air with heaviness. She sighed. He was not her husband. He was simply someone to fill the void of his absense.

She rose from bed. She didn't even remember the man's name. Now that she had a good look at him, she noticed how much of an abomination he was. She walked out to the wharf and stared forward towards the rolling waves. The sky was vivacious, the remnants of a storm rolling away into the sea. Clouds opened at the sight of the magnaminous moon, spilling rain into the hungry ocean. She saw the turtles crawling forth from the sea to spawn and breed. She saw the starfish, left behind in the tide, struggling to find their way back. She saw the fins of sharks, silently slumbering under the waves. The nigth was so welcoming. She had no intentions of going back to her bed.

As she stared out into the wharf, she began to locate that familiar spot that brought both melancholy and bliss. Far beyond the shore, a crag emerged from the sea, its face scalable. The crag, which was dubbed Poseidon's Fang was the sight of many a shipwreck. Boats would be dragged towards the stone with ferocious winds and waters, and slammed against its face with intensity. Many died, sucked underneath by currents and riptides while others narrowly survived, their bodies mangled by the mighty crag.

Just looking at the crag's worn face made the woman salivate with anticipation. When she was young, her and her husband would go out on nights like that one, and make love upon the crag like syrens. Their cries of passion filled the night, and before they collapsed without breath, they'd swim back to shore and continue on the beach nearby. Those were the days before everything changed, before children and before mortgages. Back when they were just stars in the sky, unshackled by planets or moons.

A cold breeze sent a shiver down her spine. She wanted to visit the crag, to relive the days when she was young. Before everything became so depressing. She inched her way through the quiet house, finding her way to the beach. She crept to the crag, focused and conscious. She waded through the water before reaching the massive rock. Gnarled fingers grabbed jutted slabs of stone, hoisting her weight up into the air. She found her footing and was sitting on the flattened precipice, overlooking the ocean around her. It was becoming more violent with every passing minute, its body pushing the slab with aggression. But she wasn't paying attention to that. She looked into the distance, awaiting the arrival of the familiar ship. The sailor would return with gifts of the New World, souvenirs from distant galaxies. He would return as he left, a strong man of his mid thirties, his sandy hair and piercing green eyes as they were so long ago. He would have his same smile, his same prominent nose, his same defining scar. She would grasp his body and they would do as they used to back in the old days, right on the very rock. Nothing would have changed at all.

But no ship ever arrived. She waited until the night was scared away. Beachgoers emerged from sequestered hotels, staring at the woman on the crag. Curious and adventurous scuba divers, interested in the wildlife around the spikey cliffs emerged from the shore, attempting to ask her about the fish. But she ignored them. What once was a passionate grin had become a melancholy snarl. And as the sun reached the center of the sky, she finally felt the warmth of day and left her perch, returning back to her house on the beach.

The man sat in the kitchen, eating her food. He didn't notice her, and he didn't care. She didn't either. She simply returned to her bed, pulled the covers to her face, and laid down, staring intently into the unchanging sea.