They need to drown her if the town has any hope of survival.
Sink her to the bottom. Let her settle with the mud crabs and crayfish.
There is something wrong with her. Her eyes aren’t level.
The left sits a few centimetres lower than the right. Her whole face lopsided.
She perches at the end of the old jetty. Its aged, grey timber slats are the same colour as her arms and legs. Dull mangrove roots, dried by the sun, protrude from her white smock-like dress. Unnaturally long fingers extend from the end of each arm.
She doesn’t have any feet.
It doesn’t matter. She won’t need them.
The afternoon sun has dropped enough that she is now more of a silhouette, her eyes lost in the glare. Glimpses of the orange glow from the sky behind peek through the mass of dark hair that runs below her shoulders, almost to her waist. It’s wild, in disarray.
Several large piles of rocks stand to one side of her, stacked in haphazard pyramids. Some have spilled down and a carpet of stones lie scattered over the worn timber, pooling beneath her.
A clatter as another rock is added to the collection. A pebble really. Probably not much good. A chubby toddler, barefoot with a mullet, waddles back to his father, proud to contribute. The rock tumbles from the pile and rolls across the old timber before it teeters on the edge of the jetty. A dull splash as it lands in the glassy waters below.
The crowd has gathered in hushed silence.
Two men begin to untie the fishing line and rope holding her up, and a ripple of anticipation pulses through the crowd.
She doesn’t move.
The men gently lower her below the timber planks, inching her towards the sea, her white dress stark against the inky waters. The sea below quivers.
She floats easily.
One of the men bends to pick up a stone. His aim is true, and it lands on her chest with a dull thump. She doesn’t move.
A cheer erupts from the crowd.
More stones follow, the piles on the jetty shrinking.
Her body sits a little lower, the weight of the gathering stones pushing her down. Her face slips beneath the surface and a thick wad of her hair lodges in her open mouth, salty water pooling within.
The final stone is cast, and the crowd watch her sink towards the sandy bottom. Not a murmur; not a breath.
Then a scream splits the air…
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