Gaia's Song

The waves churned and toiled around the pier comprised of gnarled planks that had seen far too many seasons and threatened to give way to the relentless pressure of the ocean at any time. On these warped timbers sat an elderly man jacketed in navy blue tweed and a cap bleached to a creamy white by the sun. Tucked away under the flapping brim was a miasma of hair and wrinkles confining two perfect spheres of the most brilliant aquamarine. In his worn fingers he clasped a rod that looked as old as the calloused flesh that held it, but no string ran through the guides and the reel's spool was bare. From dawn to dusk he sat there at the end of that pier with pole in hand until consumed by the gloom of night. He was a curious spectacle through the young eyes that peered through the narrow gap of black hair and stone from the ledge high above.

“Aleena,” a man's voice called to her, “the bus is here.” It was her foster father, something she was reminded of nearly daily at school by the other kids. She looked away from the man far below to the road running near her father's business and home to see the bus full of those very same kids. Why couldn't she be like the old man below who no one ever bothered? All she would have to do all day long is sit on that old dock with rod in hand and not a worry in the world. Aleena could do it. Who would stop her? “Aleena. The bus.” It was her father once more, but this time more urgent and stepping out the back door with backpack in hand. The pursed lips fell to a frown that pulled at cheeks she was still growing into and she lifted herself from her perch. He dusted her off with one hand and gave her the backpack with the other, “can't you wait until after you get to school to get all dirty?” She didn't understand the point of the comment. All of her clothes were dirty to some extent. He had told her before that it was because money had been hard to come by once everyone moved off to the colonies. What that had to do with money Aleena wasn't sure, but her father was a smart man and sacrificed much for his business. “Now get going.”

Her feet left trails in the grass as they dragged through them on her mope towards the waiting bus piled full of kids. Doors screeched open on hinges crippled by the salt laden coastal winds to reveal the old bus driver sat on a seat that begged to be put out of its misery. She was a shrew of a woman huffing and giving small chirps in her impatience with Aleena that morning; like nearly every previous morning. The small girl took a deep breath and shut her eyes tight to steel herself for what was to come then she took the first step into the riotous bus.

One step and nothing. Two steps and nothing. Three steps and she was at the top, looking down the dangerous aisle through eyes opened to a squint. She alternated between furtive steps forward as courage rallied within her to quivering in fear of what they would do or say and back again. The door slammed shut imprisoning her with the waiting tormentors.