Audrey Trinen ’26
Margaret reaches her hand through the ice-cold water, viewing the glistening pearl just below the surface of the pale blue ocean. Yet another beautiful bracelet was brought to her by the ocean. Carefully wiping off the sand sprinkled on the piece of jewelry, Margaret lifts the dainty bracelet and places it onto the palm of her hand. She feels the weight and smoothness of each pearl brought together with wire to form a delicate chain. Clasping it onto her wrist, the bracelet looks as though it were made just for her.
She had discovered this spot when she first moved to Bandon, Oregon. Following the death of her mother, Margaret’s move to the quiet town along the coast was exactly what she needed. Bandon was far enough from her memories of her mother to keep away the melancholy feelings she so wished to avoid. However, Margaret felt her mother’s presence throughout Bandon; her mother had spent her last few years living there in a small home by the water, peaceful and alone, just as her mother had enjoyed. Originally, Margaret had opposed the idea of her mother living alone in Bandon, as there had been numerous reports of missing women around the towns of Bandon at the time. However, the town of Bandon itself seemed safe and protected. Her mother had convinced her that it was exactly where she needed to be, with a smile on her face and her tiled earrings swaying back and forth. Well, Margaret couldn’t argue that. For Margaret, her mother was like the tide of the ocean. Calm, soothing, free-floating, yet rigid and strict, all at the same time. Forever changing yet eternal. With a mind of her own, once she decided on something, she was bound to get it.
Of course, the first thing Margaret did after settling in was take a stroll on the beach her mom had frequently written about in mail and postcards. With each step on the sand, Margaret swore she could smell her mother’s favorite perfume still lingering in the air. So, Margaret kept taking each step, eagerly searching for the faint smell she kept losing as she walked along the water. Her steps didn’t stop until they brought her to a narrow spot, like a tunnel, between the cliffs by the water. Through the crack, she could see a semicircle-shaped pocket of water, like a naturally formed private beach. There was nothing else seen around it except for a small home farther up the cliff, overlooking the cove Margaret had discovered. The small home was secluded and hidden from the rest of the town. This small bay must have been the only spot from which the house could be seen. Margaret felt a smile make its way to her face; her mother would’ve loved a home like that.
Carefully slipping through the tunnel and into the cove, she was almost blinded by the natural enchantment that the spot seemed to exude. The sun projected its rays through the mist and perfectly into the cove, highlighting the surface of the water ever so slightly, making the ocean glimmer and shine like an azurite pendant. Upon stepping closer to the shore, Margaret noticed something swaying on the surface of the water. After carefully reaching for it and pulling it out of the frigid water, she immediately recognized the item in her hand. A pair of tiled earrings she had not seen in what felt like forever weighed down the palm of her hand. A droplet splattered on her hand as she looked over the pair of earrings that were identical to the ones that her mother had always worn. Margaret felt her open hand slip up to her face to wipe the tears out of her eyes, as she continued to stare at the pair of mosaic earrings the ocean had delivered to her. Margaret didn’t know how to explain it, but as she wiped the earrings dry on her pair of
pants and slipped them into her own bare earring sockets, the only thought she could fathom while she stared out into the ocean was this: “Hi mom.”
Since that day, Margaret made it a habit to visit that cove as often as she could. Slipping away through the tunnel as though she was slipping into the arms of her mother. After each visit, she discovered a new piece of jewelry washed up on the shore. She hadn’t told anyone about her special gifts from the ocean; it was like a secret held only between her and her mother. Even if she had told them, there was no way for her to explain that her “dead mother brings me jewelry from the ocean!” So, she kept it as one last thing they held between them. In silence, Margaret continued to wear all the new ornaments and treasures that decorated her appearance each day. The accessories had felt as though her mom was always beside her, lifting the weight off her shoulders in every passing moment. When people asked her where she had gotten all her new jewelry, she simply stated, “My mother had gotten it for me.”
However, on a cloudy morning of January, when Margaret decided to visit the little cove once more, nothing could have prepared her for the sight she was to witness. She clasped her necklaces, slid on her bangles, popped in her earrings, and zipped up her jacket while stepping out the door. It was a little bit colder than usual, but Margaret took her stroll to the cove regardless, excited to see what the ocean had brought for her this time. As her bangles on her wrists jingled with each movement she made, the chimes of her steps came to an abrupt stop when she saw the next gift the ocean had presented to her. This time it was not a delicate pendant, a carefully woven choker, a dainty golden watch, or a pair of beautifully tiled earrings. It was a body. A woman’s body stripped of everything she was wearing, completely bare, head faced down into the water, and not moving. Margaret let out a shriek that echoed off the walls of the cove, making her feel dizzy with possible explanations in her head. As she clumsily reached
to drag the body out of the water, it was evident that the woman was dead. However, upon flipping over the body of the woman, Margaret held her breath. Margaret recognized her as the woman whose face was plastered all over the papers these last few weeks. She had gone missing from a few towns down while on her way to her neighborhood grocery store. With a pit forming in her stomach, Margaret hastily stood up as she ran towards the exit of the cove. Her feet felt as though they were sinking into the grey sand as she continued to race back to town and back to the police station. Barging into the station panting with her tiled earrings still swaying back and forth, she gasped the words out loud to the policeman while he drove with her to the familiar cove.
Upon entering the hazy cove, the woman’s body was identified as the missing woman in the papers. The currents of the ocean had brought her body there; “Something called ocean gyres”, the policeman had said, “Items that were dumped somewhere nearby are more likely to wash up on this coast because of the tides.”
Suddenly, the jangling bracelets on Margaret’s wrists felt cold and unbearable. The chained necklaces draped around her neck felt as though they were tightening around her neck, suffocating her. The mosaic earrings dangling from her ears felt heavier than ever, like she was being weighed deep into the sand by the jewelry that had once lifted her heart.
Without another word, Margaret began to remove the accessories on her body, hastily and rigorously, as though she would rip them off, leaving nothing but the pair of earrings. The jewelry she had removed was handed, shakily, to the officer, each piece soon to be wrapped up into small separate plastic bags, labeled with names and dates. The jewelry Margaret had worn for months was found to have belonged to various women. The same various women who had gone missing from various towns around Bandon.
The little hidden home above the cliffs of the cove was no longer hidden, as a man was dragged out of the house in handcuffs, charged with first-degree murder of 19 victims, all women, from throughout the area. One, including a woman who lived in Bandon, Oregon. A woman with tiled earrings, eyes the same color as Margaret’s, and long sandy hair in flowing waves, just like the ocean.