Tangled Yarns: Breath-taking

The men stood on the beach and waited.

"Go on!" said the man, ""Start swimming!"

Behind the men, Edna could see the penguin had escaped its strings and was now making its way up the sand dune. It was all put out. Harassed. Grumpy. It was thinking "Who were these creatures, coming along and upsetting her life?" She would look elsewhere for a place to hide her eggs.

Edna pressed against the waves, feeling them lift her body off the sand. She fell forwards and started to swim. The sea closed around her, holding her as a mother cuddles a baby. Edna knew she was risking her life, but it was her only chance. The men were watching. They would have to see her struggle. They must not know about the one thing in her whole life she could do better than anyone else. How long she could hold her breath. When she was halfway to the rock she began to splash. She screamed and sank, rising only to splash and scream again. Gradually, she sank deeper, until only her arm was visible to the watchers. Then she was gone.

Although she couldn't see the beach now, she knew what would happen. The men would be satisfied that she was drowned. They would wait for a minute. They would see only the rising and falling of the waves. They might wait two minutes, or even two and a half, but finally, they would turn away and walk back to where they had left the penguin. They would start searching for it. They would forget about the girl in the sea. They would say she was dead. They be congratulating themselves on a perfect crime. Who would suspect foul play when the girl's body was found, washed up on the beach in a few days time?

Edna swam under the sea until she was some distance from the rock. She suddenly realized it was like sewing the water. She rose for a breath, then threaded her way under the water until she rose again for the next stitch. When she was close enough, and feeling the surf dragging at her she carefully moved in with the tumbling white foam until she could see where the men were. They were walking down the beach again. Their backs were towards her. With a wild, frantic sprint, she leaped from the water and raced for cover, then she ducked down and caught her breath.

She waited for a few minutes, until her heart was beating at a more normal speed, then she crept back to where the path wound through the sand. Her clothes were nearby, still bundled together under a clump of grass. Hastily, she pulled them on and ran up the path. Five minutes later she was home.

That afternoon, two men were caught red-handed by the police, as they tried to leave the beach front area.