Perspiration poured down Kris’s face as she hiked along the dusty trail, surrounded by the shrill chorus of unseen insect life. Her t-shirt was already soaked and plastered to her back by her equally sweaty rucksack, and now the dampness was starting to seep down the waistband of her shorts. Ahead of her, a clump of trees offered the first shade since she had got out of the air-conditioned delivery truck in which she had hitched a ride to the trailhead. Stopping in the patch of comparative coolness beneath them, she pulled out a water bottle from her bag and drank thirstily.
Stowing the bottle away again, she pulled out the map, scribbled on the back of a pizza flyer, that the bar owner had given to her. Shy and quiet, she was more in the habit of silently observing the people she met during her travels than making conversation with them. But the roadside bar, while in immaculate condition and lovingly tended, apparently had difficulty attracting customers since the new coastal road had opened, and a sense of pity for the owner’s lonely lot had made her feel obliged to respond to his chatty overtures. ‘Looking for peace and quiet, eh?’, he had exclaimed, when she explained that she was travelling along the coast to admire its famed natural beauty and had taken the old road because she was put off by tourist hordes. ‘I know just the place for you. Out of the way, glorious clear water, amazing rock formations and white sand. The perfect beach’.
Studying the map now, she wondered if he had made a mistake. Or had she misunderstood his directions? Or worse – what if he was playing some sort of cruel practical joke on her? Letting her hike into the wilderness in this heat in search of a mythical beach. It was just the sort of thing the kids at her high school would’ve found hilarious. ‘Did you hear what Prissie Krissie did?! What, she actually fell for it?! So dumb’. Pushing the snide little voice into the back of her head, she decided that she would hike for another twenty minutes before giving up and turning back.
At least it was still early in the day, so she should be sure of getting a ride once she returned to the road. Mostly she liked travelling alone, but she hated the idea of getting stranded out here all by herself. The mere thought of it made her think back to the cheery international students she had met a few weeks back, and wish she had taken them up on their friendly offer to join their group. She had got to know them when they shared a dormitory at a hostel. Actually, it had recently lost its official rating as a hostel, for reasons which swiftly became apparent. When the students climbed into their bunk beds to try them out (alright – they had bounced just a little), the entire rickety structure had collapsed, domino-like, burying them all under a pile of rucksacks and bedding. The incident and ensuing hilarity had completely broken the ice, and their clear need for assistance made her feel she wasn’t intruding when she went over. While the grumbling hostel owner was rigging up replacement beds, they had gone out for a meal together, then spent the rest of the evening in a series of bars, sharing jokes and life stories. Kris had never felt so at ease with a group. When they suggested travelling together the next morning, she had been sorely tempted, but in the end said no.
Setting off again along the narrow path, she suddenly turned and looked behind her. For a moment, she had had the strangest feeling that someone was behind her. Staring hard, she saw nothing, and decided it was just her mind playing tricks. Still, her unease deepened, and she was suddenly aware of how vulnerable she was, out there on her own. She repeated to herself that if she didn’t find the beach after twenty minutes, she would get herself back to the road sharpish and get out of here.
The twenty minutes were almost up, when, squinting into the distance, she spotted the first glimmer of blue on the horizon. Hastening her pace, the land in front of her soon opened out into a wide view of a bay. Topping the last rise, she finally saw her goal below her. The bar owner had been right. She had never seen such a stunning beach. The path ahead descended gently through grass-covered dunes to an expanse of immaculate white sand. On either side were rocky cliffs, in delicate shades of grey, yellow and pink, shaped by time and the waves into spectacular arches and columns. The water shaded from a delicate turquoise near the beach through a brilliant aquamarine to an intense cobalt blue out in the bay. A gentle surf rolled onto the sand. Eagerly, Kris followed the path downwards. As she passed through the dunes, she saw that the lowest levels of the rolling mounds were covered in a fine tracery of seaweed and shells, an exquisite piece of natural artwork. As the bar owner had promised, the place was completely deserted. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the salty air and turned slowly on the spot, taking in the views.
Then, as she looked back the way she had come, she saw a shadow quickly duck out of sight between the dunes. This time she was sure of it. It was no delusion, no trick of the light but a person. She even recognized the lanky form – it was the man who owned the bar! Her stomach clenched in fear while her mind raced. If he had simply been planning to come to the beach himself he would surely have said so, and once he saw her ahead of him, the natural thing to do would have been to call out to her. That he would hide could only mean one thing – he had deliberately got her to this lonely spot and followed her to do – what? Rob her? She hardly looked rich. Rape her? With her homely freckled face, wide bottom and dumpy legs, she was used to provoking mockery rather than desire.
With her route back to the road blocked, she had no choice but to carry on towards the beach. Glancing behind her, she again saw the stealthy figure sliding along the side of a dune, and she broke into a run. But what good would it do her? There was nowhere to go, no one to help her. Nothing in view but the sand and the sea. The loose grains slipped under her feet, and she was wheezing and gasping from the exertion. If only she had gone with the students, if only that little inner voice hadn’t whispered its usual mantra, ‘They’re just being polite. They don’t really want you to come. They don’t really like you. Nobody ever likes you. Why would they?’.
All of a sudden, a boat rounded the cliffs, heading in towards the beach, its motor thrumming. Blinking the sweat out of her eyes, Kris thought for a moment she was seeing things. But then the engine shut off, the boat slowed down and dropped anchor. Laughing and calling to each other, the passengers dived off into the water, striking out for the beach. Relief flooded Kris, and she ran to meet them.
Abruptly, Kris pulled up short. Reaching the shallows, the first swimmers were just starting to stand up. The foremost man, who had reached the beach a good few lengths ahead of the others, was the most handsome she had ever seen, with the sort of muscled torso usually only seen on a Greek statue, piercing blue eyes and thick, wavy dark hair. The rest of the group of young men and women were all burnished by the sun, with athletic bodies and handsome faces. Exactly the sort of group that she always avoided, knowing that she would at best attract snipy comments and superior smirks. At worst – a cold shiver went down her back, as she remembered years of humiliation at the hands of the popular set at school.
Turning around again, she peered intently back at the dunes. She could see nothing now. Maybe I just imagined it, she tried to tell herself. Perhaps she could give a cordial wave to the new arrivals and then head off back to the road, pretending she was just leaving. But she was still trembling with fright at the thought of her shadowy pursuer, and her legs wouldn’t obey her.
The dark-haired man stepped out of the water in front of her, shaking the drops from his hair like a dog. He gave her a broad grin, then his face creased in a concerned frown. ‘Are you alright? Are you hurt? You’re as white as a sheet’. He gripped her shoulder and elbow solicitously and, before Kris knew it, she had been gently lowered to the sand and was sitting looking into his worried face as he squatted in front of her. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m ok, really. It’s just – I think someone’s following me. I saw someone – a man – behind me, and when I turned around he hid…’. Her voice trailed off, aware of how lame the story sounded, like the figment of a hysterical girl’s over-active imagination. The young man looked distinctly sceptical, but he didn’t laugh or tell her she was crazy. Instead, he patted her knee in an oddly fatherly manner and said, in soothing tones, ‘Well, you’re safe with us now. And just in time to join us for our barbecue. A good job too, because we’ve brought far too much food – as usual’. Before Kris could open her mouth for a polite refusal, he turned to the rest of the group, who were now reaching them, and called out, ‘Everyone, this is…’ – he looked at her inquiringly, and she muttered, blushing, ‘Kris’ – ‘Kris and she’ll be having lunch with us. Come on, put your best feet forwards!’. Turning back to Kris, he surveyed her sticky appearance and tactfully suggested a refreshing dip before she ate. Reddening even more in embarrassment, she hurried to do so while the rest of the group shot into action around her. Small portable barbecues were brought from the boat in a dinghy, along with coolers full of fresh fruit and vegetables, while a campfire was lit, seemingly just for fun, as the cooks had already completed their first batches on the barbecues before the flames were well established.
In no time at all, it seemed, delicious smelling food was being served up, and the group ranged themselves informally round the campfire, chatting companionably. Feeling shy, Kris crept to the edge after she had filled a plate with roasted vegetables and bread. Her nerves had calmed after continued scrutiny of the dunes had shown no trace of anyone, but she always felt acutely uncomfortable being in a group of strangers, and the fact that any of these strangers could easily have graced the cover of a fashion magazine only made her more awkward. Then, a young woman approached her and, with a shy smile, seated herself on the sand nearby. While still beautiful, she was a touch more normal than the others. Her thighs were on the chubby side, her nose a fraction too wide, and there were even traces of acne on her face. Her warm brown eyes reminded Kris with a painful jolt of the young Estonian student she had got on so well with at the hostel. He had seemed to enjoy her company too, but her inner voice had whispered, ‘He’s just being nice. He couldn’t possible be interested in you. You’re so pathetic to even think that’. So Kris had said goodnight and gone to bed.
‘Hi’, the young woman now said to Kris, ‘I’m Tess, short for Teresa’. Kris felt so relieved at having met someone who was more human than goddess that she dared a feeble joke, ‘I’m Kris, short for – Kris’. Tess laughed. ‘Really?’. ‘No’, admitted Kris. ‘My real name is Kristiana’. ‘That’s a beautiful name’, said Tess. ‘It’s never suited me’, shrugged Kris. Tess looked at her in surprise. ‘Yes, it does’. Overcome with sudden bashfulness, they both looked away, but then Kris ventured to praise the delicious food, and soon Tess was telling her enthusiastically about the group’s philosophy of natural, tasty food. ‘Have some more’, she urged Kris. Kris looked at Tess’s own plate, which held only a few sliced vegetables that she had slowly been nibbling on. Noticing this, Tess looked a little embarrassed. ‘Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to lose a bit of weight. Take some more, really, everyone else is!’. It was true that the others were hungrily helping themselves to seconds and even thirds, so Kris joined in. She couldn’t help but feel even more out of place though. If Tess regarded herself as too fat, what on earth must the rest of the group be thinking as they looked at Kris?
Once the food was finished, Abe – as Kris had discovered was the name of the young man who seemed to be the group’s unofficial leader – allotted everyone chores. She was pleasantly surprised to find herself automatically included, doing washing up with Tess. As they squatted by the water’s edge rinsing off the plates, Kris peeked reflexively behind her, edgily scanning the dunes for movement. She still didn’t see anyone lurking there, but her guts twisted in trepidation at the thought of walking back all that way alone. She wondered if she could ask to be taken on the boat. The group seemed so nice… But how could she possibly presume to join them? She would be the ugly duckling in a flock of swans, the snot-nosed little sister tagging along with the sophisticated teenagers. Unwillingly, she remembered the time she had been so pleased to be invited to go out with the others at school. The long wait at the agreed meeting place, anticipation subsiding into anxiety, followed by the numbing realisation of the truth – and the searing laughter as she walked into class the next morning.
She looked over at Tess, who was determinedly scraping leftovers into a bucket, even though something about her face made Kris think she would rather have gobbled them down. ‘How long have you known Abe and the others?’, she asked. Tess smiled. ‘Just a few months. I’m the newbie’. As if she knew what Kris was thinking, she continued, ‘That’s why I have some catching up to do. With the food and exercise and all. It’s a little tough sometimes, but, as Abe says, it’s worth a few sacrifices to be truly beautiful’.
Kris couldn’t imagine anything so superficial as the way you looked being worth starving yourself, but it wasn’t any of her business to say so. Instead, she said, ‘They all seem very nice’. She was being sincere. Abe was a touch paternalistic and patronizing at times, which was surprising given that he seemed to be the youngest in the group. But the others were remarkably modest and open, seeming totally unconscious of their good looks, and watching their warm camaraderie had filled her with wistful longing. Tess’s face lit up. ‘They’re wonderful people, just wonderful. I was so lost before, until they took me in…’. Her voice trailed off and she glanced down at her wrists. Following her gaze, Kris noticed deep scars running along the lines of her veins. Appalled, she looked back up at Tess, but her eyes were now determinedly fixed on the dishes.
‘I was a bit surprised’, said Kris, hurriedly returning to her earlier subject, ‘how nice they are. Usually, people who are so good-looking are…’. Her mind hurriedly searched for an acceptable term. Not ‘arrogant’, or ‘bitchy’, or ‘up themselves’… Finally, she finished her sentence – ‘…not so down to earth’. Tess looked at her as if she suspected what she had really meant to say. ‘That’s because most people who want to be beautiful are attention-seekers. They want to be rich and famous, for everyone to stare at them…’. She looked over at her friends. ‘They don’t want any of that. They – we – just want to be beautiful because – well…’. She fell silent for a moment, and then gestured at the beach. ‘What do you think of the beach?’. Surprised at this apparent non-sequitur, Kris inspected her surroundings for a moment, unsure what sort of answer Tess expected. ‘It’s absolutely beautiful’, she answered finally. ‘Exactly’, said Tess. ‘That’s all we want. To be like the beach. Beautiful the way that nature is, by natural means. It’s inside all of us, we just need to put in more effort to bring it out. Like an artist working on a canvas. We do the same for the beach’. Kris looked at her questioningly, unsure she had heard properly. Tess rinsed off her last dish and stacked it neatly. ‘Come and see’, she said.
Tess led Kris over to the dunes. Kris kept glancing anxiously around, but there was still nothing moving but the gently swaying grass-stalks. ‘There’, said Tess, pointing at the lowest dunes. Kris was confused at first, but then she realized that the tapestry of seaweed and shells she had admired on arrival was actually manmade. Even the lower dunes themselves were artificial, she now saw, rounded mounds made deliberately as canvases. She was taken aback. The last thing she had expected a group of catwalk look-alikes to spend their time on was creating such subtle, harmonious works of art. The graceful curves and muted colours resonated within her, touching her heart with their beauty. ‘Would you like to make one?’, asked Tess. ‘What? No, no, of course not! I could never make something like that!’, exclaimed Kris. Tess gave her a long look. ‘I think you can – Kristiana’, she replied gently.
Digging deeply into the sand, throwing up spadefuls onto a growing mound beside her, Kris was soon covered in sweat again. But she didn’t mind. Tess and two others worked beside her, happily digging, sometimes humming snatches of music and sometimes giving her tips as to the sort of thing she could make. Under their guidance, she had already gathered a pile of seaweed, shells and stones, and as she dug, her mind was at work as to how she would arrange them. But such peaceful thoughts kept being disturbed by images of the threatening stalker she was sure would be waiting for her somewhere between the beach and the road. Several times she almost opened her mouth to ask Tess if she could go with them on the boat, but each time her nerve failed her. Swapping over to dig in the deepest part of the hole, while the others worked on stabilizing the mound above, she wrestled with her feeling of alarm about what might happen to her out on that deserted trail, and her inbred, reflexive dread of being an annoying nuisance, an unwanted intrusion, an oblivious laughing-stock. Then, she remembered another childhood incident. She had been to choir practice, and as her parents were busy, they had told her to ask her best friend’s mother for a lift at the end. Too shy to do so, she had pretended her parents were coming to pick her up, waiting in an agony of embarrassment with the choir leaders after all the other kids had left, knowing no one was coming for her, until she had a chance to sneak out. Walking through the dark, dismal city streets in the cold rain, she had been terrified, and had berated herself over and over again for being so stupid and weird, for getting herself into this mess because she couldn’t just ask for help like any normal person would…
Kris was roused from her reverie by a shower of sand coming off the mound. Shaking her head and blinking, she called, ‘Hey, watch out!’, with a chuckle in her voice. Her laughter stopped as another load of sand hit her face, far too accurately to be an accident. A rush of betrayal filled her, along with the triumphant, malicious whisper from inside, ‘you see, it was a game all along, they were always making fun of you…’. The familiar burning shame at her own gullibility filled her, along with a shiver of apprehension. Now there was no alternative but that solitary trek back, every snap of a twig sounding like a footstep, every clump of bushes concealing a potential attacker. Neither big nor strong, she knew she would be totally incapable of protecting herself against an assault. Tears welling up in her eyes, she waited for the sound of sniggering from the others, but it seemed peculiarly silent above.
Then the whole mound collapsed on top of her, knocking her down, and she knew this was no spiteful prank. Desperately, she flailed her arms and legs, trying to throw off the sand and get to her feet. But spade-blows packed it down tighter and tighter over her. She could barely move, and panic took over. The blows stopped, and now she did hear something from the people above. It wasn’t laughter, but a low, resonant murmur. It almost sounded like – chanting? The sound seemed to transmit its vibrations downwards, until it was as if the sands itself were stirring…as if something were burrowing up from underneath… Then horror overwhelmed her as a loathsome, slimy pit opened up, engulfing her. Kris opened her mouth to scream, and it filled with choking, abrasive sand as she was consumed by darkness.
Above the ground, Tess struggled to hold back her tears. She was vaguely aware of the dark figure of the bar owner approaching the others to receive his usual reward, but she shut it out, concentrating on nothing else but decorating the mound with shells and seaweed in the ritual patterns, striving to make it as beautiful as possible. ‘I’m so sorry, Kristiana’, she whispered over and over again, racked with guilt. Her task complete, she rested both hands on the side of the mound, consumed by a feeling of utter desolation. Then she caught her breath as she saw her wrists. The scars were gone! Standing, she could feel her thighs, taut and muscled, and when she turned to look at her friends, the joy in their faces reflected the flawless beauty she knew was now in hers. She smiled radiantly, and Abe approached her, his hands raised to pull her to him in an exuberant hug. ‘You see?’, he announced proudly. ‘I told you it was worth a few sacrifices!’.
When the thanksgiving celebrations were complete, the boat motored away into the deep water as the sky was gradually shrouded in evening light. Behind it the beach slowly disappeared into the distance, its serene perfection lying in wait, one more mound rising at the base of the dunes.