Derrolyn Anderson - [Marinas Tales #1] - Between The Land And The Sea Read Online Free PDF

pajamas.”
    Remembering the scruffy little cats, I turned to see that they had melted back into the brush.
    “It was nice meeting you Stella,” I said, shaking her hand again before walking towards the beach.
    “Goodbye Dollface,” she called after me, “Don’t be a stranger.” I slipped off my shoes, savoring the feeling of cool sand between my toes as I picked my way through a jumble of driftwood down to the water line. The tide seemed to be going out and I dodged the surf, darting in and out to pick up blue and green beach glass. I liked the quiet and solitude of the early morning beach. The dense fog blurred everything at a distance, and I had the sensation I was walking along in a bubble created by my own little field of vision.
    Climbing up the stairs onto the pier, I walked along the wooden planks, looking down into the turbulent ocean a good twenty feet below. Dark murky waters under the wharf churned like witches brew in a cauldron, opaque and sinister looking. As I got further down the pier, a small figure looming along the railing came into focus. I drew closer to see an ancient looking Asian man fishing off the side.
    We both nodded hello and I peeked over into the plastic bucket at his side. I was surprised that it was full of fish, and I glanced up to see the old man smiling at me.
    I returned his smile, “Good fishing today,” I commented.
    “Ah,” he said, smiling wider, “You have water in your eyes.”
    “Uh, thanks,” I said, not sure if his observation was meant to be a compliment.
    My eyes are probably my best feature, colored somewhere between blue, green and gray depending on the light. At least that’s what strangers always compliment me on, and that’s what Dad calls “empirical evidence”.

    I wished the fisherman continued luck and advanced further down the pier, glancing back to see the fog swallow up the funny little man.
    Arriving at the cement ship, I ventured down a small set of stairs leading to the deserted deck. The top of the ship had been coated with a layer of asphalt to level the walkways, and there were several holes covered with metal grates. Looking down through the bars into the guts of the ship you could see black water swirling around jagged openings with surf pouring in and out.
    I continued on until I was stopped by a chain-link fence blocking off the very front of the ship. A sign explained that a violent storm had wrenched it apart several years earlier. I peered down through the wire and saw twisted metal bars sticking out of jumbled concrete blocks.
    Waves washed over the broken hull, splashing foamy brine on the barnacles and mussels that clung to every available surface. Beyond the wreckage the intact prow of the ship sat at a crooked angle.
    What initially looked like wet black asphalt caught my eye. It was moving, writhing like fish caught in a net. Closer inspection revealed a family of sea lions hauled up onto a flat slab of cement. A new member joined them, awkwardly flinging itself out of the water and competing for a foothold while the rest barked discontentedly and wriggled aside. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I sat down on the bench that faced out towards the wreck and pulled open my bag.
    Fishing out my sketchpad, I balanced it on my lap and surveyed the scene.
    Several of the sea lions craned their necks to study me. Concluding that I was no threat, they went back to their naps, occasionally jockeying for position amid flurries of grunts and barks. I started to draw the little group.
    As I sketched my scalp prickled with the eerie sensation of being watched. I turned to look, but no one else had joined me on the ship’s deck. Shrugging it off, I gripped my pencil and went back to drawing. With a start I glanced down into a woman’s face intently peering up at me from behind the jagged ruins. I gasped as our eyes locked and shock waves ran through my body.
    She had large wide set eyes and full lips that were as pale and ghostly white as