Miss Peregrine's: Short Story

The old car came and went with the tide. My friends and I liked to guess where it had come from, and why no one had taken it out of the water. The more practical of us said it was just a piece of trash that was too heavy to be bothered with. They were probably right.

I know I spent several weeks at the beach that summer just waiting for the water to recede and reveal what was hidden beneath it. Sometimes, on days when the water was still, I wouldn’t have to wait. I could walk in a few feet, stay very still, and look down to watch little silver fish dart between my legs, then to the car, and back again to me.

I would have been quite content to have these peaceful moments to myself, but, on one particularly warm day, my friends joined me. Their splashing and shouting scared away the fish, until the only sea life I had for company were the clumps of swaying seaweed that couldn’t care less about such noise.

Night fell, but we weren’t expected home for another few hours. The old car came back little by little, and then suddenly all at once, in very much the same way that the sun had dipped below the water. The usual speculations about it returned, but this time there was something different. Two boys dared another to wade out and get inside the car. There was protesting, some scuffling. I quickly grew irritated with them, and said nothing as I went out to the car myself. The ground beneath my bare feet was littered with sharp rocks and bits of trash, but I kept my eyes focused on the car. I had always thought of it as sad, sitting alone here in the water, rusting away into nothing. But the closer I got, the less separated it seemed.

My friends called my name, and I did not reply. I crawled through the passenger seat doorway, slipping once on the algae covered seats and hitting my elbow on what was left of the dashboard. Ignoring the stinging cut, I sat down, and looked to my left, out where the window once was. I expected the same old things I’d always seen in the same old way: the distant strip of land that was the county across the bay, the bay itself, the stars, the moon. This time, I saw through new eyes.

A wall of sea provided the pane of glass to look through, and when I tilted my head back, I saw the moon rippling up above. The tiny silver fish that had so often darted through my legs became the stars above me. I looked down. The car was new again, the color of glazed porcelain. I took a breath and felt the steering wheel beneath my fingers. The salt water burned my throat, and I was home.