Flash Friday - Beaches

I love the ocean. The vastness of blue. The way the sunshine sparkles on the surf, the poetic leaping of dolphins, a shower of whale spray and flashes of shoals darting beneath the surface. But what really lies beneath? No-one has all the answers. I mean, yeah, sure, they've discovered a handful of species compared to the vast quantity of unmentionables that more than likely lurk beneath the surface. We've never gone down there in a large, expeditionary kind of way. We haven't explored oceanic inch by inch. We don't know for sure.

Don't get me wrong, I love living by the seaside. I don't however, like seaweed. In fact ,if there is any of that vegetation hanging around you can guarantee that my tootsies are not dipping in anytime soon. It'll wrap itself around your legs, all feathery and tendril-like to begin with then, before you know it, the plant tightens its grip and you've lost your balance. You're fighting for a breath. The salt is burning your throat as you gasp for air and no matter how hard you struggle, you simply cannot get your leg free. Seaweed. It's the salad of the ocean. Best avoided.

I've snorkeled. Oh yes, I've given myself sunstroke by spending an idyllic hour or so pootling around the Great Barrier Reef looking at the dead coral and the few fish that fight tenaciously to survive in the middle of ignorant tourism. I've seen those reef sharks and bottom swimming tiger sharks and those enormous Groupers who apparently don't eat people. But you just watch those eyes and that huge mouth and the way it lurks in the dark cavern beneath you as you swim ponderously by.

The most scariest thing you can do, in my opinion, is be a passenger on the back of a jet ski driven by a petrol head who can't hear you screaming in fear and thinks you just want to go faster. Did you know jet-skis bounce off waves? Especially if you come at them from a cross-direction. It's not fun or exciting, it's downright frightening. There's no seat belt. There's no door keeping you within the vehicle. You fall off that thing and you're stranded in the drink. That life vest is going to do nothing but keep you buoyant as various marine life consumes you slowly, toes up.

You know that bit in the ocean where the water suddenly changes colour? Do you know what that is? Certain death. Otherwise known as the drop-off because that's not a terrifying description - oh no. The ground beneath your feet literally drops away hundreds and hundreds of metres. What lies beneath? You're okay, you're floating, you're swimming - how can that possibly be a problem? You're not touching the floor anyway. Let me tell you, not touching the floor is not the same as not being able to see the damn thing. There's a certain comfort in knowing that you could sink down and touch solid ground so to speak. I mean, why else would we invent swimming pools with deep ends? We like to pretend to sink under the water, knowing full well that we can push off, back to the surface, anytime we like. None of that deep blue nothing, sinking away into oblivion beneath us.

I see you there, treading water, trying not to inhale too much salt water as bob like a little cork that lost its bottle. Just hanging there, in the sea. You can't even see the edges to the left or the right or behind you. The shore in front of you looks like a troupe of dancing ants came to town. If Jaws ate you right now, no-one could do anything. No-one could stop him. There could be seventeen sharks circling you and you wouldn't even know because you can't see in three hundred and sixty degrees constantly. You've taken a chance. You've put your very life on the line just so you can go have a little swim in the sea.

Now, I know, you can always paddle and paddling is wonderful provided you are wearing the correct footwear. None of this bare toes dabbling in the sea froth. Oh no. You could catch anything. There's bound to be a seawater version of the verruca. And then you've got crabs and cockles and mussels and whelks and clams and jellyfish and sea urchins. Good god man - why take the risk?

Wave jumping is all very well in theory. You stand there in a line and hop over the little waves coming into shore as the tide creeps forward. Everyone squeals and laughs. It's fun. You don't realise you're gradually moving out further and the tide is coming closer and closer. Before long those ankle grazing waves are knee height. But that's okay because you're all holding hands, all having fun. Jumping waves at knee height. Thigh height. Waist height. Okay so buoyancy is becoming a bit of an issue now and it's not so much wave jumping as body tossing and just as it starts to get seriously choppy, the person next to you lets go of your hand. Have you ever tumbled in a strong wave? Not been able to figure out which way is up? It's horrifying. You can't see, you can't scream, you can't breathe, you don't know where you are and it seems like forever before your feet scramble on solid ground and you're bursting through the surface gasping for breath but the seawater is still chest high and here comes another wave to batter you back down.

Oh yes, I love the ocean. From a sitting on the sand, far away, eating my 99 kind of way.  

The Ocean flash fiction is taken from Tales from the Seaside, a collection of humorous short stories by Claire Buss. 

Claire Buss is a multi-genre author and poet, completely addicted to cake. Find all her books on Amazon. Join the discussion in her Facebook group Buss's Book Stop.