Stilts - Sofany

In Sofany’s head, each partially rotting wood plank creaked in protest as she stepped. As if to say, “Go away.” Her footsteps felt heavier these days.

Sofany knew which planks were the weakest after years of watching the sea spray and rain decay them. Occasionally, the bad ones would get replaced by the carpenters, but less of that had been happening lately.

As a child she would skip over the bad planks with confidence. She enjoyed swinging on the tattered bridges to avoid the bigger spaced wood pieces. It was a game to her and her friends: who could cross the fastest, climb the mangrove or spot anything floating from the lookout. Those were happier days.

Now she noticed everything below her knees even more. Her head hung low, heavy with something she couldn’t wash away.

Sofany sat on the edge of her deck and dangled her feet over the water. The ocean was grumbling like her stomach, but they were of no real consequence. She pressed her left cheek into the cold wet wooden post and stared out at sea. The misty rain massaged her scarred hands.

Taking in the view, she realized her home she once cherished now felt like a prison.

No.

Now it felt exactly like what it was, a fragile home on stilts.

Everyone knew how they got here, or so they thought. But no one knew how to go back to what once was. Eighty-seven boats and shacks on stilts. Connected by frail ropes, large wooden boards and handmade plank bridges. It was an engineering feat accomplished in a short period of time. The water was rising and those that wanted to survive had to band together quickly to build the Stilts fast enough to withstand the elements. Even if the tide reached the hulls of their boats, their stilted homes would simply float, once detached. It had to work.

Sofany’s head jolted against the post. She startled awake to an unwanted splash. She had fallen asleep on her deck while deep in her thoughts. The misty rain had grown heavier and made a puddle in her boots. She didn’t mind being wet. Actually, everyone was always wet. Out of a year, they probably had only a few dry days and even less sunny days. It was a gloomy life but a life everyone was thankful for.

Plop, plop.

A few drops bounced off her hood and ran down her smooth pale face.

“Time to go inside,” she said to herself.

She looked to the right, then the left. Nothing but ocean and a hazy horizon line she once called Zon. Some days Zon was clear to see and some not so much. Sofany liked to talk to Zon when she was alone.

Not lately.

No one could understand her now. Not even something imaginary.

Looking up at the sky as she stood in her soggy boots. Sofany braced herself with the shaky rail. The clouds were always grey, but they seemed darker today. A sign of something big coming. She turned and walked to her door. But right before she went inside, she couldn’t resist looking out to sea once more. The hazy glow on the horizon was both bone chilling and thrilling at the same time. A clear reminder that something always got swept in with a storm.

Good or bad.

***

Home.

Sofany’s home was cozy and dry. The tin roof pulled the most weight in that regard. She removed her cloak made of tarpaulin and hung it on her hook. Her long dark cornrow braid fell heavily over her shoulder as she bent over to remove her boots. The water poured out onto the floor soaking into the cracks of the wood. She placed her boots upside down against the wall.

Their shack was tidy, everything in its place. There were only two small round windows on either side of their main room. Sofany’s parents were busy tinkering about to make sure they had everything in place for the storm.

“There you are.” Sofany’s mom announced. “Did you get the fish?”

“No, the Fish House was closed.” Sofany lied.

She let out a slow breath. “Well maybe the storm will pass quickly, and they will open back up before night sets in.” Her Mom said. She was concentrating stirring the stew as it swayed on the hearth to the rhythm of the tide.

Sofany’s Mom was a gentle soul. In 18 years, she had never heard her mom yell in anger or talk badly about someone. She gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. When Sofany would come home from school complaining about the scary Chicken House lady yelling and siccing her dogs on her for cutting through her deck. Her mom would simply say, “she likes her privacy.”

Her mom put the top back on the pot and rested the spoon on the table. Stew splashed on the table as the spoon clinked against the wood. She raised her hand to pull back her thinning gray hair out of her face. You could tell Sofany’s mom was once very beautiful. She hadn’t aged poorly it was just that she aged at all. Seeing beauty wilt to the elements is unsettling to witness. It had taken a toll on her body, on everyone’s.

Sofany’s home was the Tailor House, responsible for all clothes and bedding. Her mom was an excellent seamstress and dad a cobbler. They taught her everything she knew. Each home had a job and was named accordingly. It was the only way their society could function smoothly, if everyone did their part.

Her Dad appeared from his bedroom sweeping. His large frame filling the doorway. It was so easy to sweep their home because of the gaps in the floorboards. Just push the dirt toward a gap and it disappeared into the ocean below.

“Here, sweep your room, Sof,” her dad instructed as he handed her the broom. He was almost completely gray now and still stood up straight. Not like some of her friends’ dads who were all hunched over.

“Yes, dad.” She obeyed.

Sofany always obeyed her dad. He had a quiet, sad demeanor about him. Emotionally closed off. Not someone you challenged. He was loving but not playful, strict but not scary. Her dad only talked when asked, to inform or to instruct. Sofany always wondered what stole his soul to get him like this. Now she understood. Trauma clung.

***

Ben.

The clouds began to spread on that fateful day. Revealing a hint of blue sky. The ocean was as still as ice. The morning fog had finally moved out to sea.

“Sofany, c’mon, I don’t want to be late for school; you only get the warm bread if you’re on time.” Carmi pleaded.

Carmi loved food, especially bread. Her dream was to marry one of the sons from the Bread House, so she could have it every day. Not just on the third day.

“Besides, how long will this go on? You have been stalking this boy forever if feels like. Why don’t you at least say hi to him when we walk by the Dive House after school?” Carmi continued.

Her words didn’t sink in. Sofany was determined to see Ben, her crush, before he submerged. It brightened her days to see him.

“Just go, I’ll see you at school.” Sofany ordered.

Carmi went on and left Sofany to go and drool alone over Ben.

While Sofany watched Ben take his shirt off, his young bare chest caught the early light. The sun was trying to peek through. His frizzy curls that she loved moved slightly in a light breeze.

The first time she noticed Ben was on a stormy afternoon. Just as she was walking by his shack, a huge wave smashed into the stilts causing her to trip and her satchel to fall out of her hand. It slid down the walkway and over the edge. Ben who was outside the dive house closing in his blinds saw her fall.

He leaped and slid himself after her satchel and dangled over the side miraculously catching the bag. After pulling the bag up, he braced himself, stood, adjusted his cloak back into position, and walked over to Sofany. He stood so close to her that she could feel the air from his panting. Then he gently placed her satchel over her head and across her body.

“Maybe you should wear it like this from now on,” Ben said with a smile. Then walked back to his home.

“Y, y, yes, maybe you’re right.” She said shyly.

From that day on Benjamin Thrash occupied her every thought.

Ben turned, looked directly up at Sofany on the overlook and smiled intentionally. It was as if he knew she would be there. Her bag slipped off her shoulder and yanked her arm off the railing. A heavy thud started pounding in her chest. Sofany smiled awkwardly and then quickly pretended to get distracted by someone walking by.

This crush was years in the making, and she was sure he had no clue. Or did he? Carmi was the only person she had told. Ben was two years older, so she always had to admire him from afar.

“He smiled at me!” She whispered to herself, holding her head down, eyes wide.

Ben placed the mask over his head and jumped in the water with the two other divers. No breathing tanks, no flashlights just lung power and good eyesight needed to be a good diver.

Had she been too obvious coming every time he dove? Had Carmi opened her big mouth and told him? Sofany’s mind raced.

Divers were very important for the stability of their home. They reinforced any weak stilt, retrieved important objects that had fallen overboard and searched for anything old that could be of use. The danger alone was exciting and seeing Ben dive was even better.

She lifted her bag back onto her shoulder and started walking to school when one of the divers popped back up and started yelling, “help, help!”

He swam to the ladder, climbed up swiftly, continuing shouting for help, begging for a rope, a ring, anything.

Sofany ran down the stairs frantically looking for Ben in the ocean. Pacing up and down the lower platform edge, she wanted to feel useful, so she rang the rusty bell hanging on the lamp post. Urging anyone to come help.

Suddenly Ben popped up and Sofany was relieved until she saw all the blood. Ben was yelling and finding it hard to swim with his wound.

The rope was quickly secured to a mooring on the other side of the dock. Then thrown along with a ring to him. Ben managed to pull the ring over his head with one arm.

“Hold on!” Someone yelled to Ben.

The pulling was going too slowly, so Sofany went to help.

The blood dripping off Ben had drawn attention in the water.

After a few pulls everyone stopped, with Ben dangling in the air. There were two dark shapes circling beneath him.

Ben started yelling again. “Get me up! Hurry! Those things killed Lucas! Hurry!”

“Shark!” Someone shouted.

“NO! It’s something else, something different,” the first diver announced.

Sofany started pulling a little faster, but her hands were slippery with blood from her torn palms. The rope was old and brittle, and she didn’t have gloves on like Lenny, the other guy pulling. It was tearing up her hands.

Around a dozen men arrived. Someone yelled, “get the guns!”

Sofany didn’t even know there were weapons at the Stilts.

In a large, locked case in the corner of the platform the men retrieved the rifles and immediately started shooting at the creatures. Using what little bullets they had.

“I’ve got to get Ben!” Lenny yelled to Sofany. “Tie it off on that post,” he pointed to a single post next to a few broken ones.

Sofany looked at the old, soft post, then up at a terrified Ben spinning midair. She looked for something sturdier, but nothing within reach.

As she tried to get a better grip on the rope, she did as she was told. She maneuvered the rope around the post which creaked at the movement.

“Hurry!” Lenny yelled.

Whap!

The rope tore through her grip, almost slicing her palms in two.

“Ahhh!” Sofany screeched in pain.

For a second life froze.

The rope dropped.

Ben fell with it.

Ben howled something awful as he splashed down on top of the creatures who were there to greet him.

***

“I should have held on tighter,” Sofany thought for the millionth time as she looked out the porthole of her shack. The surging angry ocean appearing to be coming for her. Maybe it will wash the pain away.

As the rain beat on the other side of the window, wanting to get in, she rested one elbow on the base of the sill. Her scarred hand on her forehead, a scratchy reminder. She thought, if only there was a version of her life that hadn’t let go. If only there was an outcome that hadn’t left her a murderer.