The Slipper by Rishan Tilve

 The wind brushed up against my face like never before. With each step I took, my feet sank into the sand. Feeling the orange and white broken sea shells under feet, I kept on walking, enjoying the pleasant breeze along the beach. In South Carolina, the water was sky blue, and far in the distance, it became turquoise-green. Ships sailed near the horizon, and sandcastles stood high dodging the waves. It was late afternoon, and the sun was three-fourth its way across the sky. The day was magnificent, and I never wanted the feeling to stop. A little ahead, I saw a small brook flowing through the bushes and into the ocean. Wanting to go across it, I suddenly walked faster. 

“Slow down!” my sister, Sarah, called. “Where are you going?”

Pointing to the brook, Sarah ran to me. 

“No, you are going to get wet,” she remarked. 

“Why not?! We are on the beach anyway,” I complained, hearing the babbling water as it flowed across the beach. “Only my feet. I promise.”

“Fine. But take your slippers off. You don’t want to get them wet.”

They were my favorite pair of slippers, and I did not want them to get wet either. They were mainly black with many white lines streamlined across it. However, on the other hand, I was frightened that something was going to be at the bottom of the river. I would rather get my slippers wet instead of getting eaten and swallowed by some eerie and monstrous animal.

Sarah had stepped in first. She had taken off her slippers and was half way through the brook when she turned around and called, “What are you waiting for?”

I stepped in and immediately felt my feet being absorbed into the sand. The wet moisture clinged to the bottom of my right foot as I took my first step. My slipper started to absorb all the water and mud. I tried to take another step, though it felt like I was being attacked viciously. My left foot came up, and when I looked down, my slipper was missing. I was confused and worried at where it had gone. Trying to see through the translucent water, I couldn’t see any white streaks. Looking around frantically, I bent my knees and squinted. Soon, a small black object came floating up and drifted away from where I was standing. 

I was so absent-minded that I just stood there, watching the slipper go farther and farther. The brook was not that long, and the ocean started in about three yards. I didn’t know what to do. By now, my sister had reached the other side.

“My slipper!,” I finally screamed, regaining my thoughts. “My slipper!”

My sister turned around and stared at me with a blank face, confused. I screamed once more, and eventually, she saw it. Sarah ran toward it along the side of the river. Jumping in, she took large, fast steps toward the runaway slipper. Sarah grabbed it and clutched it tightly in her hand. Extremely wet, she returned back to me, in a state of laughter.

“I told you to take them off. Let’s go,” Sarah said, trying to hold back her smile.