by Douglas Perenara Johnston
Mere noticed Tama’s nguru. It was only fair she hid the nose flute to get back at him, although it was impossible to stay angry with him for long with that winning smile. Closing her eyes, Mere listened to the ocean roar as it assaulted the land in endless waves, the hissing water sucking at the stones. She felt the energy of the Pacific. She heard the bird song nearby. The aroma of sea salt, tarutaru and rimurapa drying in the sun. A loud bird call made Mere open her eyes to catch a glimpse of the karoro high above. She then dropped her gaze to the beach. Where was he? She looked out to sea, then along the beach. There was no sign of him. It was unlikely he would forget his belongings if he had somehow made it past her back home.
“Tama!” she called. “Tama? Where are you?”
Tama surged through the water. He powered through the waves, but when he stopped and looked back, he was shocked at how far from shore he was. After deciding to head back, he soon realized he was getting tired. He must be caught in a strong current. There was fear then as his limbs grew weak and his breathing laboured. Eventually, he slipped under, trying desperately to hold his breath and struggle back to the surface.
Stubborn wounded pride and anger had kept Tama above the surface for a while. He knew he was a strong swimmer. How could it come to this? Then came an irrational rage coupled with desperation. Why wasn’t Mere here to rescue him?
After several bouts of battling back up, he went under for the last time. Lungs burning, he finally gave in to the urge to take a breath and water flooded down his throat. A sense of detachment replaced terror, and everything went black.
***
Alex sat bolt upright and, after a moment of fogginess, realized he wasn’t drowning and could breathe in gasps of air. He was soaked in sweat and bit down on the scream that was trying to launch up from his chest and out of his mouth.
What the…? Why does my head feel like it’s going to split open?
He lay back and checked his alarm clock. 3:01 am, oh that’s just bloody brilliant. The morning of my School Cert Math exam and I’m waking up from a bloody nightmare at 3 am. Shit! And drowning? I can’t swim and I hate water.
Alex thought back to the dream and recognized the beach. Five minutes south of Oamaru near Old Bones Lodge. He and his brother had gone fishing there for elephant fish at the weekend. It was their favourite spot.
His hand hurt, too. In his sleep, he must have been clutching that piece of agate he found on the beach. He lay there for a while and tried to go over some of his math revision in his head, but the migraine refused to go away. With a grunt of disgust, he got up and went to have Panadol and breakfast. His exam was looming ever closer.
On the ride to school, he tried to shake the last of his migraine. First came the rainbow-coloured aura around the edges of his vision, and then the intense skull-splitting pain, followed by a faint urge to spew. Migraines were nothing new, especially with the stress of exams. The disturbing dreams were newer, however.
Just put it out of your mind for three hours, damn it! Exam mode now, do this exam, then school cert is over.
Still, the sense of drowning seemed so real. The sounds of the ocean sucking against the sand and pebbles, the smell of the salt air, and the feel of the sun on his face as he ran to the water. And Mere, those huge eyes, so pretty, so… Get a grip, boy! Dream of pretty girls later, Jesus!
He came to his senses just in time to avoid running his bike straight into one of the poplar trees that lined the avenue to school.
“Shit! Pull it together…” he said aloud. Missing the exam by being in the hospital wasn’t what he had in mind. It shocked Alex that he had let his mind wander so much.
Daydreaming was one thing, but this was getting dangerous. So, she had nice eyes, so what? But then he wasn’t remembering her eyes, was he? He suddenly felt himself blushing as he remembered how few clothes Mere had on and how curvy her tanned figure was…
Alex arrived at the bike shed and went to get off and lock up his bike. He felt dizzy and almost fell. His heart thundered and breathing grew difficult. A salt water taste formed in his mouth and his limbs grew weak. He fell, rolling onto his back as his vision seemed to recede, then turn to black. His last thought was of drowning as a roaring in his ears dimmed to silence.
“Alex? You alright, mate?”
“What the hell? What just happened?” Alex looked up in confusion at a couple of familiar faces.
“You tell us. You just dropped like a rock. Want us to get the nurse?” Alex recognized Eden’s voice, and then his red hair and freckles.
“Nah, mate, I’m fine. I just jumped off the bike too quickly and got all dizzy. Must be some exam nerves getting to me is all.” Alex tried to make light.
“Bloody hell, Al, you nearly gave us the shits, bro,” chimed in Wayne as he reached out and helped Alex up. “Hang on, are you sure you’re, okay? You’re covered in sweat. Actually, you smell like the beach… or saltwater…” Wayne narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah, and seaweed, what the hell? You can’t have been for a swim already, mate, surely?” Eden added, bemused.
Saltwater? Seaweed? What the hell was going on here? He must have had another vision. If “vision” was the right word. This was not good… not good at all.
Find out more about what is behind Alex’s bizarre visions in the upcoming “Iridescence” anthology. Preorder here.
Douglas Perenara Johnston lives in his hometown Oamaru Janet Frame’s “Kingdom by the Sea“ on the South Island of New Zealand. Educated at Otago University, Douglas is of Ngāti Rangitihi, Ngāti Rānginui, Ngāti Awa, Ngāti Porou, Ngāti Raukawa, Ngāiterangi, Uepohatu, Scottish, Irish, German, and Scandinavian descent. He is a recent graduate of the Applied Writing programme at NorthTec and tries to incorporate his cultural identity into his writing where possible. Johnston is a published author, having his work in anthologies released by Pavlova Press (NZ), Wicked Shadow Press (India), and he recently landed among the Top 6 finalists in the Iridescence Award 2024.
Comments