The beach, with its golden sands, stretches out under the brilliant sun. I watch as Emily and Skylar have found their little haven, their love blooming in romantic gestures and sweet moments. Skylar fusses over Emily's red hair, ensuring she's well-protected from the sun. Her delicate fingers tend to each fiery strand, and they share an intimate kiss, followed by laughter – a mundane yet affectionate exchange that makes my heart ache with a strange mix of emotions.
Meanwhile, Tom is on a mission, diligently inflating a trio of vibrant animal-shaped floatation devices. He's determined to complete his task, and a grin plays on his lips as he blows air into them, one deep inhalation at a time. I feel slightly out of place amidst all the love and joy, my fingers itching to find something to do.
The absence of messages from my father weighs heavily on my chest, its invisible burden threatening to overshadow the beauty of this day. I had hoped for a moment of connection, an assurance that he's safe and thinking of me. But my plea for reassurance is met with a cruel response: "Message not delivered."
I shake my head, determined not to let this frustration tarnish the day. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and exhale slowly. It's time to find my inner calm and rejoin the present moment.
Desperate for a distraction, I offer my assistance to Tom. A playful glint in my eye masks the unease that still lingers within me. "Need help?" I ask, stepping closer to him.
"I'm good," he says, but I hear the hesitation in his voice. The pause in his response doesn't go unnoticed, and I can sense that something lingers beneath the surface. "Come on," I press, "Let me do something."
Tom laughs, breathing deeply. "Well," he says, "I suppose an air pump would be easier." He directs me to an aging shed on the side of the house.
"You can count on me!" I say, and take off in the direction he indicated.
When I reach the shed, I can't help but notice the stark contrast between this weathered structure and the pristine beauty of the main house. As I approach the shed and attempt to turn the old brass knob, I realize the door is not cooperating – it remains stubbornly closed. A small glass pane provides a limited view into the dim interior.
Inside, there are shelves covered with dust and miscellaneous tools. I spot the air pump I'm supposed to retrieve right next to the door, but my attention is diverted by a glint of gold tucked away in a corner. My curiosity draws me away from my original mission.
I try in vain to open the door, which is unlocked but inexplicably jammed. Frustration flares, driving me to demand the door's cooperation with every ounce of strength I can muster. In the midst of my struggle, at first shaking the knob viciously before ramming my side into it, a searing pain surges down my arm. I let out a cry of frustration, "Open Damnit!"
As I wrestle with the door, a blinding flash engulfs me, leaving me dizzy and disoriented. I stumble, my legs giving way, and I clutch my forehead as I try to regain my bearings.
When I finally dare to look up, the shed door hangs ajar, as if yielding to my forceful insistence.
Shivering, I hesitantly venture inside the shed embarking on a dimly lit exploration. I head to the far corner where I saw the glint. Barely visible, under a layer of dust, is a coin. The moment I palm it, an eerie sensation, like ghostly fingers, lightly traces my arm, sending chills down my spine. A haunting whisper echoes in the depths of my mind, declaring, "You are mine."
A wave of fear washes over me, and I scan the dimly lit shed, searching for the source of the voice. There is no one there. My voice trembles as I whisper, "Leave me alone."
The laughter that follows is awful. Ghostly and distant, it swirls through the air, raising goosebumps across my skin.
With shaky hands, I snatch the air pump from the shelf, eager to escape the unsettling space. My heart races and adrenaline surges through my veins as I hurry back to the beach, determined to preserve the serenity of our sunlit day.