ABALONE CAN’T LIVE OUT OF WATER
By: Sarah Hudson
- Barbara Bretting Fiction Runner-Up
R
iley lifted her face skyward in the water, glancing through the stalks
of giant kelp at the glow of the midday sun whose rays were like
the distant beacon of a lighthouse lost to a foggy night. She had glided
toward the ocean floor, parallel with the kelp fronds as she followed them
into the murky depths. The deep entanglement of rubbery bulbs, from
which hundreds of deep sepia blades swayed, extending themselves out
and moving in tandem with the slight lull of the ocean water, was difficult
for Riley to swim through. She had to maneuver herself like a seal, rolling
her body and slipping past the gnarled cords, meanwhile taking care not
to get caught in any of the particularly thick bundles. Her mesh bag was
tucked away in a pocket of her wetsuit, and she had a knife cinched to the
side of her calf just in case she did become caught.
Riley reached the holdfasts, where the kelp trunks were rooted
beneath the sand, just twenty feet below the surface. She quickly scanned
the area; to her left were basaltic formations, encrusted with barnacles and teeming with the luring tentacles of anemones that clung to
the rocky sides. A sea star layered in maroon armor was suctioned in a
crevice, and a small school of sand dollar perch darted past. Riley had to
go back up for air, so she coiled her legs and sprung herself toward the
surface, where she emerged with her mouth agape and sucked in the salty
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air. She was glad to see th