The Girl and the Sea
words by Evelyn Pak, art by Angeline Phan
She stared at the beach that grew more distant from her, the waves pushing her further away from the dimly lit village.
49 days. Hwayoung had promised her siblings she would return home after her search and the mourning rituals ended.
It was night when she decided to depart for her journey. Her father refused to face her when she had left the house, his eyes fixated on the framed portrait sitting on the small table. Her mother’s hands shook as she gently pressed a pouch filled with dried fruits and meats into Hwayoung’s palms. Hwayoung ignored the tears in her mother’s eyes and the trembling of her father’s shoulders.
Now, on the small boat, she faced the endless sea. The aroma of cooked offerings and ripening fruit faded as the briny sea foam enveloped everything around her. She had traded the murmurs of visitors and their condolences for the soft lapping of water against wood.
She would only return after she found her answer.
—
On the 39th day, Hwayoung no longer knew where she was. After several cloudy nights, the stars could not guide her. She started to wonder if the universe had plotted against her from the very beginning.
When she had told the head monk of her plans, his brows had furrowed with concern. Her hope, her wish– it was unthinkable, and his silence was only a reminder of the absurdity of it. But Hwayoung could not bring herself to care once she returned home from the temple.
The portrait of the smiling woman loomed over her; the permanent grin that would stare at Hwayoung even when the young girl screamed in rage and despair. The white robes, hushed voices, and the weak imitation of such a lively woman made her sick.
She was jolted awake from her memories when she heard frantic chirps from the side of her boat. Hwayoung leaned over to see that a sea turtle had gotten caught in a fishing net. Cautiously, she reached out and helped the turtle escape from the trap. The turtle gave a soft chirp after it was freed, as if to thank Hwayoung. She watched as the turtle swam deeper into the depths of the sea.
Memories of the lady in the portrait had already begun to sink into a haze. She never thought that she would yearn to smell the scent of burning incense again, yet the ache to see the very portrait she escaped from grew more painful.
Her tongue burned with the saltiness from her face, and she could no longer tell if it came from the spray of seawater or her own hot tears.
—
On the 48th day of her journey, Hwayoung’s rations had almost completely depleted, and she was becoming more comfortable with the dull pains of hunger. In the last leg of her journey, Hwayoung did not bother to gaze at the stars in an attempt to calculate where she was and where she was going. Her clothes, once pristine and white, were now yellowed and crusted with the salt from the sea and her sweat.
Hwayoung brushed her fingers against the surface of the water, watching as droplets of water fell from her fingertips back into the sea. She had lost track of time when she noticed that a sea turtle had swam up next to her hand. Though she couldn’t be sure, it looked like the turtle she had saved several weeks ago.
The turtle’s head emerged from the water and began to speak in a deep rumbling voice.
“Thank you for saving my humble servant. As the ruler of these seas, I shall grant you a wish as my way of thanks. Speak to this vessel of mine, and it shall be done.”
Dumbstruck, Hwayoung scrambled to clear her thoughts. Her first thought was that lack of food and water must have made her delirious, but she had heard stories from the older woman of humans being paid with divine favor for good deeds. Perhaps this was her chance, perhaps this was her answer to her long search.
“I lost someone in my family, could I see them one last time?” Her voice cracked from weeks of solitude and silence. If a turtle could look apologetic, Hwayoung felt like it would be the current expression of this particular turtle.
“There is a certain order to this world that even I, the Dragon King, cannot defy,” and even though every part of her told her to watch her words, her anger and frustration spilled out before Hwayoung could stop it.
“If a powerful being like you cannot help me, how is a mere mortal like myself supposed to continue on when I have lost so much and will lose so much more?” Suddenly, the water around the boat stilled, and Hwayoung braced for the wrath of the Dragon King. Instead, the turtle began to let out a low squeaking sound which Hwayoung realized was supposed to be laughter.
“What is death? Is it loss? I watch my oceans erode entire islands, only to carry those same sediments to create another land. You say she is not with you anymore, but is a body the only proof of existence?”
The turtle let a small chirp, and several different sea animals rose to the surface and surrounded the small boat. Fish, jellyfish, and dolphins stared at Hwayoung as the turtle continued.
“My servants and envoys have told me they have seen the two of you sail together ever since you were young. The deftness of your hands, your love for the sea, is it not all from her?”
Echoes of distant memories resonated within her: the laughter of the woman as she watched Hwayoung try to untangle her leg from a fishing net; the older woman floating next to her, hands gently supporting Hwayoung as she bobbed at the surface of the water. Her loving words when Hwayoung struggled to swim for the first time:
“Breathe. I am here.”
Her journey until this point would not have been possible if not for the skills and lessons taught by the older woman. For a moment, Hwayoung thought she could see the older woman seated across from her, about to guide her on how to steady the boat.
“Though I cannot bring you two together, I can send her your last words. If you write them in the sands before her time as a spirit in this world ends, my waves will carry them to her soul.”
“Although you have my deepest thanks, I do not know how to go back,” Hwayoung whispered, still in awe of the sheer presence of the ruler and their subjects.
“Do not concern yourself with that, my final act of gratitude will bring you home,” and as the vessel of the Dragon King sunk back into the water, Hwayoung felt her eyes grow heavier and heavier until she could no longer keep them open.
—
Hwayoung woke to a cold splash of water on her feet. She blinked away her drowsiness and she could feel the grains of sand against her hands. She sat up, surveying her surroundings.
True to the Dragon King’s promise, she had returned home before dawn. The village was shrouded in darkness, but Hwayoung knew she only had a little bit of time left before the sun rose.
With no hesitation, her hands began to move despite her fatigue and hunger. As her fingers pushed against the sand, sobs started to rise in her chest. They had spent countless hours on this shore together, and now it would become the place where Hwayoung would take her first breath alone.
Once she had written her message, Hwayoung collapsed to the ground. Her wails were suppressed by the crashing waves as they washed away her final letter to the older woman.
Hugging herself, she felt the first light of the new day wash over her. It was the start of the 50th day, and the sands had already been cleared of her last, desperate plea.
Let’s meet again one day.
