Ocean

Author: Felix Dang, Grade 11

Dear traveller, welcome to this humble town. Are you, like the rest of our visitors, simply passing through? Our winding streets reveal untold stories that are sure to amuse.

But, if I may, heed this warning: avoid the path that leads to the ocean, for it is not known for its mercy.

There is a story here that has been passed down the generations. It is not my story, nor was it my ma’s, or even her ma’s. Stories do not belong to anyone except their creator, and that someone was lost to the cruel tides of time. Only their story marches on in their stead, and I feel it my duty to deliver this tale to you.

The ocean kills — my ma used to say.

Long before you or I drew our first breaths, back when this village first took shape, there lived a man. Koa, they called him, the esteemed son of the village chief. His frame echoed that of an ancient oak — a physique crafted for hunting — broad and unyielding. He was strong; his strength was undeniable.

Yet his power lay not only in his body, but also in the spirit it carried — grounded and enduring like the mountains. Koa was a man of quiet patience and gentle hands. Generous in nature, he wears kindness like a second skin, offering it to every soul within this burgeoning village. He laughed easily, gave freely, and loved fully. He reserved nothing for himself. In return, they treated him with reverence.

Koa was a happy man.

He was also a lonely one.

It was a moonlit night when they first met; a selfless man, and a selfish god. Their eyes raked over one another, assessing. One to the almost translucent entity bolstered proudly in front of him; the other to a man of sinew and soil, one who dared to stand unflinching at the water's edge. The ocean had taken shape that night — one not wholly human, nor wholly divine. Moonlight threaded through its body as though it were composed of flesh and memory. Its hair fell in dark rivulets down a back that shimmered like the underbelly of a colossal wave. Where its feet ought to have touched the shore, they did not. The shoreline shaped itself around them, cradling them like a distant lover.