Fiction
The Waves of Fate
Again, a gush of seawater beats Hanna’s aching body down. Knees collapsing, she tries to hold onto her catch. The abalones rattle in the nets, their pearly shells glistening under the setting sun's weak rays. She could no longer pay attention to these details, which used to mesmerize her as a young woman. Today, her only focus is getting to shore alive.
Back straining, she heaves her nets closer to the pebble beach, using the momentum of the gaining waves. When Hanna's torso finally emerges out of the water, she lets herself take off the mask that has been covering her red-lined face for the past hours. Taking a deep, liberating breath, she continues to trudge along the uneven surface of the seafloor.
Looking around, she sees no other Haenyeos1. They must already be up in the barracks cleaning out their catches. Hanna remembers the days she was the first to meet her daily quota -- how she, full of energy, strength, and quiet pride, waited for the others to return. A gray strand of hair blowing across Hanna's face reminds her of what once was and is now lost.
At the barracks, she gracefully placed her weary body down amidst the busy crowd, joining in on the collective sorting and cleaning. Nobody looks up. Every year, the number of familiar faces dwindles. She wishes that Yenna was still here.
Oh, the way they would make the time fly for each other, letting the monotony of the tasks get buried with every secret grin and cackle. Without Yenna to keep her company, the sound of the young Haenyeos' giddy whispers makes something inside her ache.
With burning fingers from the scrubbing, poking, and soaking, Hanna accepts her pay and commutes home. With the buses now running often and everywhere, it takes her less time to get back to her quaint inland cottage. She used to love the walk they'd take with Yenna through untrodden paths across their favorite tangerine farms.
With the sun long gone, they would sneak past the low-rising stone walls, run through the tall trees, and gather as much fallen fruit as they could carry. The adrenaline of late-night adventures would make their hearts race and grins grow. As soon as they were in the clear, bottled-up laughter would explode, filling their eyes with blissful tears, and their hearts - with warmth and satisfaction.
Ah, the tangerines. How sweet the juicy pieces used to taste after such mischief, their flavors bouncing around and finally melting in their mouths. Under the moonlight, their thin yellow-green peels would fall right off, leaving traces behind two oblivious figures too deep in ecstasy and joy to notice.
Riding past the modern, suffocating, conglomerate farms, Hanna reminisces on the plentifulness of the past – filled with nature, space, and freedom. She no longer feels the magic of the landscape. The bright trees of ripe fruit only bring out a dull pain in her chest, which she wishes would quench someday.
At home, Hanna's presence is met with the lonely squeak of the door's hinges. Sighing, she carefully removes her thread-bare shoes and places them beside a shiny pair meant for another's feet.
With no desire to cook and a long-gone appetite, Hanna seeks immediate refuge from the day. In the darkness, she picks her way to the beckoning mattress. Its softness envelopes her frail frame and lures her into a deep, deserving slumber.
That day, the sea was angry. Its waves - vicious. On the slippery deck of the rusty fishing boat, Hanna pleaded with Yenna: "It's too dangerous. We can't dive today!". It was no use. Yenna was already too far gone into the adrenaline she always got before her plunge. Hanna could do nothing other than follow her into the inviting claws of the deep, dark ocean.
All was quiet in the coldness of the water. Time slowed, and panicked thoughts silenced. The strong, diverging currents pushed the girls' bodies from side to side, but Hanna and Yenna fiercely held onto each other, letting go only to pry an abalone from its peaceful nook.
After what seemed like hours, two gasping heads popped out amidst the sea’s roiling surface. Hanna desperately wanted to return to the boat, feeling her energy depleting with every round. Turning the focus from her nets, Hanna, with Yenna's name on her lips, blanches at the sight of an empty ocean. Silence met Hanna's desperate bellows.
Hanna squirms and shudders, as the dream plays its painfully familiar tune, rustling the sweaty bed sheets in the quiet of the night. With her mind shrouded in the culminating scene, now is the time to jolt awake and gasp! But the gasp never comes. This time, Hanna gets to rest in peace.
As her last breath escapes her wrinkled, tired lips, she is brought out of the darkness back into the joy of tangerines, hot sun, and calm seas. On the nearing horizon, she spots a silhouette gliding towards her. Hanna knows it could only be one person, and so she runs. Finally, she gets to run!
As the two figures crash into each other's open arms, so do the waves, commemorating what they had once ripped apart and are now reuniting.
1: Haenyeo are women from Jeju Island, Korea, whose livelihoods consist of diving for muscles, clams, seaweed, etc. Today, more than 57% of Haenyeos are over the age of 70.
Back straining, she heaves her nets closer to the pebble beach, using the momentum of the gaining waves. When Hanna's torso finally emerges out of the water, she lets herself take off the mask that has been covering her red-lined face for the past hours. Taking a deep, liberating breath, she continues to trudge along the uneven surface of the seafloor.
Looking around, she sees no other Haenyeos1. They must already be up in the barracks cleaning out their catches. Hanna remembers the days she was the first to meet her daily quota -- how she, full of energy, strength, and quiet pride, waited for the others to return. A gray strand of hair blowing across Hanna's face reminds her of what once was and is now lost.
At the barracks, she gracefully placed her weary body down amidst the busy crowd, joining in on the collective sorting and cleaning. Nobody looks up. Every year, the number of familiar faces dwindles. She wishes that Yenna was still here.
Oh, the way they would make the time fly for each other, letting the monotony of the tasks get buried with every secret grin and cackle. Without Yenna to keep her company, the sound of the young Haenyeos' giddy whispers makes something inside her ache.
With burning fingers from the scrubbing, poking, and soaking, Hanna accepts her pay and commutes home. With the buses now running often and everywhere, it takes her less time to get back to her quaint inland cottage. She used to love the walk they'd take with Yenna through untrodden paths across their favorite tangerine farms.
With the sun long gone, they would sneak past the low-rising stone walls, run through the tall trees, and gather as much fallen fruit as they could carry. The adrenaline of late-night adventures would make their hearts race and grins grow. As soon as they were in the clear, bottled-up laughter would explode, filling their eyes with blissful tears, and their hearts - with warmth and satisfaction.
Ah, the tangerines. How sweet the juicy pieces used to taste after such mischief, their flavors bouncing around and finally melting in their mouths. Under the moonlight, their thin yellow-green peels would fall right off, leaving traces behind two oblivious figures too deep in ecstasy and joy to notice.
Riding past the modern, suffocating, conglomerate farms, Hanna reminisces on the plentifulness of the past – filled with nature, space, and freedom. She no longer feels the magic of the landscape. The bright trees of ripe fruit only bring out a dull pain in her chest, which she wishes would quench someday.
At home, Hanna's presence is met with the lonely squeak of the door's hinges. Sighing, she carefully removes her thread-bare shoes and places them beside a shiny pair meant for another's feet.
With no desire to cook and a long-gone appetite, Hanna seeks immediate refuge from the day. In the darkness, she picks her way to the beckoning mattress. Its softness envelopes her frail frame and lures her into a deep, deserving slumber.
That day, the sea was angry. Its waves - vicious. On the slippery deck of the rusty fishing boat, Hanna pleaded with Yenna: "It's too dangerous. We can't dive today!". It was no use. Yenna was already too far gone into the adrenaline she always got before her plunge. Hanna could do nothing other than follow her into the inviting claws of the deep, dark ocean.
All was quiet in the coldness of the water. Time slowed, and panicked thoughts silenced. The strong, diverging currents pushed the girls' bodies from side to side, but Hanna and Yenna fiercely held onto each other, letting go only to pry an abalone from its peaceful nook.
After what seemed like hours, two gasping heads popped out amidst the sea’s roiling surface. Hanna desperately wanted to return to the boat, feeling her energy depleting with every round. Turning the focus from her nets, Hanna, with Yenna's name on her lips, blanches at the sight of an empty ocean. Silence met Hanna's desperate bellows.
Hanna squirms and shudders, as the dream plays its painfully familiar tune, rustling the sweaty bed sheets in the quiet of the night. With her mind shrouded in the culminating scene, now is the time to jolt awake and gasp! But the gasp never comes. This time, Hanna gets to rest in peace.
As her last breath escapes her wrinkled, tired lips, she is brought out of the darkness back into the joy of tangerines, hot sun, and calm seas. On the nearing horizon, she spots a silhouette gliding towards her. Hanna knows it could only be one person, and so she runs. Finally, she gets to run!
As the two figures crash into each other's open arms, so do the waves, commemorating what they had once ripped apart and are now reuniting.
1: Haenyeo are women from Jeju Island, Korea, whose livelihoods consist of diving for muscles, clams, seaweed, etc. Today, more than 57% of Haenyeos are over the age of 70.