Weslyn Amory is a high school student living in the suburbs of Chicago. She spends most of her time writing and editing her book, which is projected to be published in late 2020.
Nothing is There
I can’t stand the ocean. I don’t want to even touch the water with my foot. The hot sand burns the soles of my feet and the freezing water turns my skin red. I go anyways. I burn up in the sun but the other people around me love the ocean. So I stay longer. It hurts me but I’m here for other people. I shouldn’t be so selfish. Seafoam washes over my feet and I cringe. I want to leave this place but I stay anyways. I don’t want to swim in the ocean but friends tell me they want to go paddleboarding. I don’t want to be left out, so I go. I stare down into the dark, deep, black ocean and fear rises in my heart. I hate having to stand on the board, my eyes darting down to the crushing waves underneath. If I fall off, it’s over. I can swim but I won’t want to. There’s nothing under the paddleboard, but my mind starts playing tricks on me. I know this because my friends are laughing and talking, they don’t see the dark shadows near us or the trail of ripples in the water that I do. So it’s my imagination, it’s just not real. I’m just tired and hateful, just like everyone always says. I want to prove them wrong so bad. My friend rocks the paddleboard, laughing at my blanched white face. Now I don’t think I’m seeing things in the water. I think there are things swimming around us. I panic. My friend thinks she knows why, she thinks that I’m only panicking because I don’t want to be in the ocean. So she flips the paddleboard over into the cold, dark ocean water. I said that if I were to fall, it would be over. I was right.