Nisha looked down at the broken boy. His limbs were twisted in all the ways they shouldn't have been and a thin line of blood ram from the corner of his mouth down his cheek.
Then hands grabbed her and pushed he back.
"Hey!" she yelled in surprise.
Mica was there pushing her away. "Get out of here," he said. "Sammy's already called for help. You don't need to be a part of this."
But Nisha couldn't take her eyes of the boy. She peered right past Mica at the boys face. Stangely, she thought, his eyes were open. Dark and open. Nearly black, like something had welled up inside of him once he'd fallen and spilled out into the whites of his eyes.
The tide was coming in. At The Rocks of Heracuma the tide was a dangerous thing. The shallow bay made for tides that could sweep a grown man up and off his feet, given the right time of year.
Nisha noticed the water to the broken boys head. Mica's friends were still staring at the body, they all looked worried.
"The water's black," said Nisha.
As Nisha stared into the dead boys eyes, the dark flowing of the tide inched along. It filled the groves of the sand. The footprints that had been made. Nisha stared and the boys eyes welcomed her with their darkness, like the blackest night. And within those eyes she saw a vastness as deep as any ocean, and as unknowable as the void above.
"What is it?" asked a voice--one of the boys.
Mica bent down, dipped a finger into the dark water. It came away blackened. Nisha thought she could see something of a rainbow glint off the stuff in the waning light.