The sun had barely risen above the horizon, and the soft dawn light lent an etheral quality to the air, which held the faint scent of salt. The waves, so blue and clear, lapped lazily at the shoreline. The gulls were beginning to wake, and a few circled overhead, screaming their greetings to the cloudless sky.
She dug her toes into the sand, feeling the seperate grains wedge themselves between her toes. The waves kissed her feet and her hair was brushed back by the gentle breeze that caressed her lightly freckled face. She waited, her heart beating in time with the waves. She waited on the beach, the perfect figure of loneliness.
It was the first time she had stepped foot on a beach in a long time. Memories flooded back to her - the angry waves, the man with the knife; her brother, his hair flying back as he was flung into the turmoiling, hissing grey water.
She covered her face, trying to forget again.
She stepped forward until the water reached her ankles, her knees, her waist, her neck.
The salty water opened up to her as she ducked her head; she gasped, her limbs flailing. It was her body's instinct to fight, but she could not swim. Her mouth opened, but instead of air, the harsh water poured in. She coughed, trying to breath, desperate for the life sustaining oxygen. Her sight began to dim, the pain began to ease, and she knew she was close to death. I'm coming brother, she thought.
Her body sank to join the bones of her dead brother.