selves calling to her, like the fish and skull were only used as conduits. It was the ocean calling out to her. Others felt it too; they were there to ensure the ocean’s will continued uninterrupted. Brooke knew that the ocean had finally grown tired. People kept throwing things into it, so it was going to throw everything back at them, with several additions of those it had claimed. She smiled as she heard the familiar sounds of fish and plastics hitting her roof. The ocean would continue its revenge.
Karah Shea, Untitled, Mixed Media (Barbed Wire, Chicken Wire, Bullet Casings) 50
