Writers Abroad Magazine Issue 3 September 2015 | Page 4

WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE

Billy and the Sea
Flash Fiction by Marit Meredith
William was sitting on a towel, reaching out, just touching the sand, testing it. He didn’t
like the feel of it. Other kids were shovelling sand in buckets and it looked fun, but he
seemed to remember something, buried deep within—of sand, sea, waves and
storms—of somebody calling his name—and grabbing on to his suitcase. And it wasn’t
fun. William wondered whether all the other kids felt the same way, but they looked
much too happy. Sand and sea didn’t make him happy. It made him afraid.
“Time for your nap, Billy.” His mother picked him up and started rocking him. He
pulled a face and wanted to shout “I’m William, not Billy!”, but all that came out was an
angry baby-squeal and his eyes grew heavy.
“William! Grab that suitcase—stay afloat—there’ll be help comin’.” Alfie pushed the
case through the water towards him. Alfie could swim, unlike William—but then Alfie
hadn’t run off to sea—he had more likely grown up in it. At least that’s what the others
said. Swam like a fish, he did. “I’ll be all right, William—you just hang on to that.”
William held on as long as he could, but the hours passed and he couldn’t feel his
legs. Alfie was gone, and so had the ship and everyone on it. His maiden voyage –
and he ended up in the sea. He would have sobbed, thinking of his poor ma who would
never see him again, but he didn’t have the strength even for that, and he started to
lose his grip on the case.
William woke with sand in his mouth and between fingers and toes, the sea lapping
at his legs. It took the last of his strength to drag himself free of the sand. He stood up
and looked around. Alfie was lying not far off, staring into nothingness. Poor Alfie. He
turned and looked at the bundle by his feet and paled, as he recognised his own body.
William woke as he was being carried down to the sea, and he struggled in his
mother’s arms. He didn’t want to go near the water. He’d enjoy this new life, and never
leave his mother, as long as she kept him away from the sea.
“Look!” His father pointed out to the sea. “There’s something out there.”
William wriggled and fought, but his mother held him tight, as his father waded out
and grabbed the case floating in the sea. He laid it on the sand and forced open the
lock. William gasped and turned blue.
“Would you look at that—it belonged to someone called William, Billy…” “Billy?”
His father grabbed him, tapping his back. A piece of seaweed shot out of his mouth.
“He was choking on seaweed—but how did it get into his mouth?” By the time Billy
had learned to talk, the memory would be gone. No one would ever know. WA

4|September 2015