“Never venture too far into the water,” my Grandmother used to warn me. “Apotamkin waits for you.”
I never believed the tale. Until the day we took the fishing boat out of the safety of the bay and into the freezing Atlantic Ocean. We hadn’t anticipated the storm that was to hit. High winds caught us; the boat capsized. I plunged into the depths.
As I struggled to fight my way to the surface, I saw the flash of a serpent’s tail. Fangs. Red hair like seaweed. A dead weight ensnared me, dragged me down.
“You belong with me, boy.”
By Antonia Rachel Ward