A Line Not to Fall Over

« Move away, I’m going to get it!”, I shout to Rebecca before plunging my head once again under the water. My fiancée complies, and the creature, that was hiding behind her left knee, turns three times upon itself before coming to a stop, perhaps realising at that moment that its little game is over. I look at it through my diving goggles, admiring the beauty of its tentacles floating in the diaphanous waters. Then, without hesitating one bit, I aim at with the lens of my photo camera and take a snap while roaring out a cry of victory. “Gotcha, you silly beast!” I raise my head over the water, brandishing my photo camera like a trophy, as I tear off my tuba in a show of rage. “Ten minutes, can you believe it? It took me ten straight minutes to get a picture. What a tough nut, don’t you think? Well, at least, it will leave us with some good memories.” I pat Rebecca’s shoulder but she remains impassive.

Moved by the annoyed look on her face, I get closer and try to kiss her on the lips.  However, at that same moment, something wraps itself around my leg and starts squeezing it powerfully. I scream in terror and put my head under the water, realising that the octopus is now clinging onto my thigh. I see it staring at me with a vengeful eye, as it seems determined not to let me go. Horrified, I start to shake my body in all directions and attempt to declutch the tentacles with my fingers. During the next few minutes, we roll around in the water, the octopus having apparently resolved to choke my leg to death. I, for my part, barely manage to give it a few timid punches, too disgusted  by the vision of its flaccid body to dare grab it with my full hands.  In the end, visibly satisfied, the creature loosens up its grip and disappears into the depths of the ocean. Later, as I finally manage to get back to the shore, exhausted by this curious underwater battle, I spit out seven mouthfuls of water onto the pink sand. Rebecca is observing me from the doorstep of the bungalow, laughing her brains out.

The next morning, I am awoken by the brightness of the sun on my face. Rebecca is lying next to me, her tall and pale body entirely revealed. The shutters are down, but the shine of dawn is still filtering through the separations, forming on my fiancée’s skin a sort of pattern that vaguely evokes the stripes of a tiger. I place my body against hers to feel her breathing. My mind is still and I try to perfectly immerse myself in the moment just before the rest of the world wakes up. I close my eyes and, when I open them again, Rebecca is gone. I now find myself lying in a narrow wooden bed, my eyes dazzled by the crude light pouring into the room from outside through a barred window. I sit up on the mattress and start reflecting. I decide to go to the sink to wash my face, and then walk up to the cell door. After a little while, a metallic noise is heard and the door slowly opens.

Two guards take me to the training hall for my daily exercise. Since the day of my arrest, about three weeks ago, I haven’t stopped thinking about Rebecca, about her beautiful features and her long brown hair.  My mind, somehow, is troubled and her image keeps disappearing. Time is passing at unebelievable speed and it is soon time to be get back to my cell. When the large steel door closes again, I feel myself submerged with emotion. “Never again will I move astray. Never again will we be separated. Wait for me until the coming of spring and we will be together once again.”