Sunken Treasure

He talked about sunken ships, as if she didn’t have her own. Those broken masts and tattered sails, too close to the surface, yet invisible from the shimmered surface of the water. She looked at his soft smile and saw its sweet facade, a glimpse of deeper waters, and even deeper sharks. The cold calm water, however, looked gentler than the heat of the summer day, and so she slipped in regardless into unchartered waters. Gently breaking the cool surface, letting the cold water creep up her thigh one millimeter at time, waiting the seemingly imminent touch of splintered wood on her toes. She remembered how as a child she would and run and jump off the jetty, laughing into the lake, filled through with shallow sunken holiday sailboats, always curling her feet up to her chest at the last minute, fearlessly, in a game that never believed she could get hurt in, and miraculously didn’t. She wished for that child back, as tucking her feet under her, she dove head first, ready for the specter of ships, but still believing in their sunken treasure.

And now off to the sunken city in San Pedro, which inspired this random writing.

About CT

Claire Townsend is a freelance costume designer/maker and theatre practitioner.
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