S

She had no name except what the sea called her. It had taken her life and saved it again. Destroyed her. Consumed her. Washed her through to the bones. Cleaned her out so all that was left was the sigh of waves on rocks.

Not yet.

The sea had dead hands. It buried her in fingers. Buried her in teeth. Showed her a thousand faces through a single mouth. She pried those fists open. Broke through bones one by one until all blood was one blood. All blood was water.

Not. Yet.

Water filled her lungs but she did not die. She became one with the sea and it did not take her.

Not

Yet

To this day she doubts.

Sea Glass

by ashergray

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