In with the Tide~

She's biting her lip
As she watches the waves turn white at the tip.

A girl walks along a beach. She is blonde, tall, beautiful, painstakingly sad. Her feet drag through the sand, creating tracks as if she needs something to follow home. No sun beats down on her straw colored hair, just clouds, gloom. The tide comes rushing, kissing the girls feet with frigid water, and then it retreats, leaving nothing more than damp sand and a perfect seashell.

A child walks along a beach. She is blonde, thin, surprisingly happy. Her feet skip across the sand, lithe as if she is afraid to stay in one place for too long. The sun beats down from the sky to match her hair. When the tide comes rushing in, she welcomes the water with giggles. And when it leaves, a perfect seashell sits next to her feet.

With a small smile, the girl bends over and picks up the seashell. She turns it over in her hands, inspects it. It is nothing short of perfection and she swears that she has seen something like it before.

The child, smiling like this is a defining moment in her life, squats down to retrieve the seashell. A hand beats her to it, snatching the seashell from her almost there fingers. She is angry and it shows on her young face.

There is a man who walks the beach with her, but he has gotten ahead. He turns then, with a look of alarm. For a fraction of a second, their eyes lock. But, he sees that seashell and his eyes grow sad. The man keeps walking.

It is a boy who stole her shell. He smirks at her, flicking some blonde hair out of his eyes. "We've been watching you, you know," he says.

"Please, give me that shell," she replies. The child rolls her eyes, something she learned from the older kids. She thinks that it means you want something.

The boy tosses the shell back and forth between his palms and she is so, so worried he will drop it. And that perfect seashell will never be hers. "I know you like to take care of your baby brother. And you like to watch other people. And you're the fastest girl- the fastest kid, really- in your class," he pauses, maybe this is what her teacher meant by a stranger, "We want you."

"I want that shell." A palm is extended, expectant, towards the boy.

He is not annoyed by her, rather he is impressed. Stubborn, persistent. There is not a doubt in his head that she will be the best recruit they've ever gotten. And, they will get her. "Trade?" he suggests.

That seashell is very tempting. With its light pink color, perfect shape, straight ridges. The child nods.

The boy smirks again. He flicks the shell into her outstretched palm. "Await our ship," he says, turning to walk down the beach.

The blonde child smiles. She has her seashell.

The girl carelessly drops the seashell back onto the sand. She continues on her path to nowhere, dragging her feet through the sand. She did not need that seashell, and she doesn't know why. When she took it into her hands, something told her to put it back.

The child holds onto her seashell, a bribe, a promise, for years. There comes a day when she realizes she never should've taken it.

A girl walks along a beach. Alone. There are no memories that run rampant in her mind. A long forgotten seashell is pressed into the sand

A girl walks along a beach. Alone. Too many memories run rampant in her mind. She wishes they would just stop. A seashell remembered much too well becomes mixed in the waves.

A/N: Prompt: Use the word Seashell with some sort of memory thing.

So, here it is. Weird? Yes. But, Steph, it came BEFORE Wednesday. Ha! How do you like them apples? Quote at the top is from The Tide by The Spill Canvas. One of my favorite songs!