The wind whispered over the jagged rocks of the cove, carrying with it the scent of salt and something else—something old, something forgotten. The waves rolled in gently, lapping against the shore, as if trying not to disturb the stillness of the scene. The sky was a dull gray, the kind of color that sat like a weight on the horizon, pressing down on the sea, merging the heavens and water in a seamless, brooding expanse.
The car rumbled along the winding coastal road, the tires crunching over loose gravel as they neared their destination. The Girl sat in the back seat, her forehead resting against the cool glass of the window. She watched as the sea appeared and disappeared between the tall, dark trees lining the road, her eyes tracing the waves in the distance.
Her parents were talking, their voices a low hum of conversation. Her mother turned slightly, glancing back at her. “This will be nice, don’t you think? A little time away, just the three of us,” she said, her smile wavering slightly, as if she was trying to convince herself as much as The Girl.
Her father nodded, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “Yeah, we all need this. Some fresh air, a bit of the ocean. It’ll be good for us,” he added, his tone forcedly cheerful. He glanced at The Girl through the rearview mirror. “What do you think, kiddo?”
The Girl shrugged, her eyes still fixed on the passing scenery. “I guess,” she murmured. She could hear the effort in their voices, the weight behind every word. They were all trying so hard to be okay. To pretend that this was just another family outing and not an attempt to patch together something that had been broken.
The car slowed as they reached the turnout for the cove, the gravel crunching loudly as they pulled into the makeshift parking area. Her father killed the engine, and for a moment, silence settled over them, broken only by the distant crash of the waves. Her mother turned in her seat, giving The Girl a gentle smile. “Why don’t you go on ahead, sweetheart? We’ll unpack and get everything set up.”
The Girl nodded, pushing open the car door and stepping out. The wind hit her immediately, cold and salty, tugging at her hair as she made her way across the uneven ground. She walked ahead, her small frame dwarfed by the looming cliffs that framed the cove. In the distance, she could see the rocky crag—a natural stone arch, weathered by time and tide, curving gracefully above the waves the stone dark and weathered from years of being battered by the sea. It jutted out into the water, standing defiantly against the relentless waves. The Girl was drawn to it, her feet moving instinctively toward the rocky formation.
The beach was rugged, strewn with dark, wet stones and patches of coarse sand. Driftwood lay scattered along the shoreline, bleached and smoothed by the ocean, and clumps of seaweed clung to the rocks, their green tendrils waving lazily in the breeze. The air was thick with the smell of salt and brine, and somewhere above, a gull cried out, its call echoing off the cliffs.
The Girl wandered ahead of her parents, her small feet careful over the slick, uneven stones. She liked it here, liked the quiet solitude of the cove. It was her secret place, a little pocket of the world that seemed untouched by time. She paused, glancing back at her parents—they were still near the car, unpacking bags and setting up a small area with folding chairs. She could hear their laughter, though it sounded distant, strained. A part of them was missing, and they were all trying to pretend it wasn’t.
The Girl turned back to the cove, taking in the desolate beauty around her. She spoke softly, her voice barely louder than the breeze. “Do you think they’d notice if I stayed here forever? It’s quiet, you know. Not like home.” Her words were lost to the wind, but speaking them aloud made her feel less alone. It was a habit she had picked up—talking when no one was listening.
Her fingers brushed over the surface of a smooth, flat stone, her thumb tracing patterns in its cool, wet surface. She often imagined someone answering—someone who understood, who could make her laugh again. “Maybe you’d think it’s nice here too,” she murmured. “Better than home, anyway. No one tells you what to do out here. No one gets sad. You can just… be.”
She crouched down, tossing the stone lightly from one hand to the other, watching the way the light played across its surface. She could almost hear her sister’s voice—teasing her, making her smile. “You’d say I’m being silly, wouldn’t you?” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “You’d say I’m dreaming too much again. But I don’t care. I like it here.”
She sighed, tossing the stone out into the waves, watching the ripples spread across the water. For a moment, she closed her eyes, letting the sounds of the sea surround her. The rhythmic pull of the waves, the distant cawing of a gull, the whisper of the wind through the rocks. It was almost enough to make her forget.
The cove was quiet. Just the sound of the waves, the wind, and her own breathing. Until it wasn’t.
“You are not alone,” a deep, resonant voice echoed in her mind.
The Girl froze, her hand tightening on another stone until her knuckles turned white. She looked around slowly, her eyes scanning the empty cove. The waves moved, the wind sighed between the rocks, and there was nothing else. Yet the words lingered, resonating in her thoughts like a pebble dropped into still water.
The presence was ethereal, something vast and patient, something that had waited here for a long, long time. She swallowed, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She knew she should run back to her parents, tell them someone was here—but some instinct kept her rooted to the spot. The air felt different now, heavy with something unspoken, something that pulled at her curiosity despite the fear.
“Do not be afraid,” the voice returned, softer this time, almost like a lullaby. It filled her thoughts, pressing gently against the edges of her mind, like the waves brushing the shore.
She blinked, her fear giving way to curiosity. It didn’t feel wrong. It felt… lonely. Just like her.
“Who are you?” she thought, not daring to speak aloud. There was no answer, not in words at least. Instead, she felt an impression—something old, something vast, like the ocean itself had leaned in to whisper a secret only she could hear.
She didn’t answer aloud. She wasn’t sure if she needed to. Instead, she glanced out at the water, now shifting in darker hues under the thickening sky. The presence shifted, a sensation like a deep sigh beneath the sea, and then the words came again: “You’re not alone.”
The Girl’s eyes lingered on the ocean, her lips parting slightly. She thought, That’s new. The wind picked up, carrying the words away, but the feeling remained—an odd comfort, a promise she couldn’t quite understand. She felt the corners of her lips twitch, almost a smile, though she couldn’t say why.
Farther up the shore, her parents called to her, their voices drifting across the cove. She turned, blinking as if waking from a dream. Her mother’s voice was gentle, her father’s a bit more anxious, reminding her to stay where they could see her.
“Coming!” she called back, her gaze lingering on the ocean one last time. She could feel it still, that presence—waiting, watching. And somehow, she knew this wasn’t the last time she would hear that voice.
With one last look at the darkening water, she turned and ran back up the beach, her feet splashing through the shallow tide, her heart racing with something that was almost excitement—and a little bit of fear.
Later, as her parents set up the folding chairs and poured themselves thermoses of hot coffee, The Girl found herself glancing back at the waves. The sky had darkened, the clouds thickening like a curtain drawing across the sun, and the ocean looked different now—deeper, darker, as if hiding secrets just below the surface.
She could feel it still, that presence—waiting, watching. And then, softly, like a whisper carried by the wind, she heard it again: “You’re not alone.”
The Girl’s eyes lingered on the ocean, her lips parting slightly. She thought, That’s new. The wind picked up, carrying the words away, but the feeling remained—an odd comfort, a promise she couldn’t quite understand. She let the feeling settle in her chest, a quiet warmth amidst the cold, salty air.
Her mother reached over, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes searching The Girl’s face. “You okay, sweetheart?” her mother asked, her voice soft, a shadow of worry behind her smile.
The Girl nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”
Her father cleared his throat, his gaze shifting between them. “Thinking about Lily again?” he asked gently.
The Girl hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. About her.”
Her mother sighed, her eyes misting over. She exchanged a glance with her husband, and they both looked out toward the sea. “We miss her too, you know,” her mother whispered. “Every day.”
The Girl looked down at her hands, her fingers still damp from the stones. She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “Sometimes… sometimes I feel like she’s still here. Like she’s just hiding.”
Her parents said nothing, but their silence spoke volumes—grief shared, but never fully understood. The Girl turned her gaze back to the ocean, the waves rolling endlessly, and felt that presence again. Not her sister, but something else. Something that, for now, made her feel a little less alone.
