Changing Tide

There were shadows here, no one could deny that. Clouds inched by in the deep midnight sky, and the stars twinkled down on the cold sand.

The beach would have been empty if it wasn't for her.

She sighed, wishing she had her dog, Ruby. They used to walk along the water in the evenings. Now, she was never finding the time to go outside. Not since losing Ruby, losing her home. The fire had taken everything, and some days she felt like it had taken her too. Like she was a ghost.

The sand glimmered, and she looked up as the clouds parted, revealing the moon. As if on cue, the high-pitched wail of a violin in the distance began to play. She thought it sounded like distant screaming, but she knew Gerald liked to practice at night. It had been one of the reasons she'd never walked the beach at night.

But now, time seemed endless. Suspended, most days. She found herself waking up later, lunch turning into breakfast, and dinner becoming lunch. Some days she lay in bed until the sun went back down, as if the night was safer.

Maybe it was.

Gerald's violin droned on, and she racked her head to place the melody. She recognized it, but it eluded her. She wondered how many years Gerald had lived here, by the ocean. She wondered whether he ever got tired of his violin. Whether he got tired that he never got any better.

"He never gets any better, does he?"

The voice was not her own, but she was slow to react. She turned her head, finding another person a mere three feet away. Their hair was long and glinted softly in the moonlight, their posture relaxed, their jacket long enough to skim against their knees. Their feet were toeing the edge of the water, the gentle waves slowly soaking their sandals.

She didn't recognize them, but they didn't look like a tourist either. She took a step to the side, trying to move to an angle where the moonlight would show her their facial features better. It didn't work; they remained drenched in shadows.

"The violinist," the person elaborated.

She realized that they were waiting for a response. "Oh, it's just Gerald," she said, licking her dry lips. They tasted salty from the ocean air.

"Does anything get better around here?" they asked her. The voice didn't sound particularly masculine or feminine, just a voice.

"What?" she finally said, beginning again to walk, but slowly.

Their stride matched hers, and the two of them walked a few steps in sync before they said anything. "Everything around here... this beach, the violin, the waves, the stars. They change, but what are they becoming?" they said.

She was beginning to get irritated, or at least tired. She should have stayed home. This sentiment was confirmed by the sad, slow sounds of Gerald's voilin. "I'm sorry, I don't know much philosophy."

They chuckled and stopped walking.

Despite her desire to continue and leave them behind, she stopped too.

"Here. Something has changed." They held out a hand to her, a necklace fisted in it. The jewel looked colorless in the moonlight, just white light and shadows.

"I..." She didn't know what to say, and the wind whipped her hair in front of her face. Water splashed at her feet. Gerald's violin sounded even further away.

They placed the necklace into her hand, their touch cold. Moonlight played on their skin, and she almost thought she could see their face. "Things will keep changing. Maybe they don't get better at first. But the important thing is to keep going. Keep changing."

She shook her head, but her fingers closed around the necklace. "Who are you?" she asked skeptically. It was then that the wind picked up again, blowing sand into her eyes. Water splashed against her legs, and she couldn't hear even Gerald's shrieking violin over the wind in her ears.

And when it all died down, the water was calm, the violin had stopped, and the stranger was gone. She looked down at the necklace in her hand, almost blinding in the moonlight.

And she put it on.