A Language Called Water by Sally-Anne Wilkinson

Hi peeps. Here is my latest Storgy contribution.



Sally-Anne Wilkinson


The water is where I belong. It’s where I always belonged: submerged and concealed from the world. I blink and examine my surroundings. I don’t remember my journey. One minute, I was on the ward and the door was open; the next, I was here. I don’t recall ever knowing this place existed. I am wet from the storm, and the wind shrieks, slapping my face. In front of me, a metal ladder leads into an abandoned pool built at the edge of the sea. My feet sink in a carpet of low-lying weeds around the rim. The water is almost opaque and thick with algae. Over the pool’s outer edge, facing the horizon, the ocean crashes against the boundary, fighting to enter. The constant impact of the sea has weakened the barrier, and salt water seeps through, disturbing the glassy surface. I…

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