The Glowing Tide

It was the summer of 2019, and I had come to stay with my great-uncle in the remote coastal village of Karwar, nestled between dense cashew forests and a stretch of black sand beach that few ever visited. The village was a place where time seemed to slow, and the only sounds were the rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves. I was fifteen, and my cousin Rohan, a year older, was my constant companion. His younger brother, Dev, was just a kid, but the three of us, along with two local boys, would often roam the forest path to the beach, collecting shells and watching the sunset.

One afternoon, Rohan had gone to the mainland for supplies, and the local boys were away visiting relatives. I was alone, and the beach called to me. My mother and uncle warned me to return before dark, but the sun was high, and I thought I had plenty of time. I took the familiar path, the forest closing in around me like a green tunnel. The air was thick with the smell of salt and damp earth. When I emerged onto the sand, the beach was empty, just the sweep of black sand and the white foam of the waves.

I wandered along the water’s edge, picking up unusual stones and letting the cold water wash over my feet. The tide was receding, revealing a part of the beach I had never seen: a stretch of rocks covered with barnacles and small pools. As I explored, I noticed something strange. In one of the pools, the water was not clear but shimmered with a faint, phosphorescent glow. I knelt to look closer, and the glow seemed to pulse, as if it were alive. I dipped my hand in, and the water felt thick, like oil. When I pulled it out, the glow clung to my skin, and I could see tiny specks of light moving under my skin, like fireflies trapped beneath my flesh.

I panicked and wiped my hand on my shirt, but the glow remained, faint and persistent. I decided to leave, but as I turned, I saw that the tide had come in faster than I expected, cutting off my path back to the forest. The only way around was to wade through the shallow water along the rocks. I stepped in, and the glowing water swirled around my ankles. I felt a strange pull, as if something was tugging at my legs, trying to draw me deeper. I pulled free and ran, splashing through the water, but the glow followed me, spreading from my ankles up to my knees.

By the time I reached the forest path, the sun was low, and the shadows were long. I ran through the trees, the glow on my legs casting a sickly light on the ground. I could hear a sound behind me, like a wet breathing, and the rustle of leaves as if something was following me. I dared not look back. I burst into the clearing where our house stood, and my uncle was on the porch. He saw me and froze, his face turning pale. ‘What did you touch?’ he whispered.

I looked down. My legs were now glowing brightly, the light pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. ‘The water in the rock pool,’ I said. My uncle grabbed a lantern and examined my skin. ‘This is the work of the tide,’ he said, his voice trembling. ‘They rise from the deep, and they mark those who stray too far.’ He led me to the kitchen, where he boiled a pot of water and added herbs, making a paste that he spread on my legs. It stung, and the glow dimmed slightly, but it did not disappear.

Over the next days, the glow spread up my thighs, and I could feel something moving inside me, a crawling sensation that never stopped. My parents were frantic, but my uncle said the only cure was to return to the exact spot and offer something to the glowing tide. He told me that in the old days, the villagers left offerings of honey and goat’s blood to appease the tide, but those offerings had stopped long ago.

On the third night, the glow had reached my chest, and I could see the shapes of small, ethereal creatures swirling beneath my skin, like translucent fish. I knew I had to go back. My uncle and I went to the beach under a full moon. The tide was high, and the water glowed with an intense blue light. I waded in, and the glow on my body intensified, as if answering a call. I saw a figure standing in the water, waist-deep, its form made of liquid light. It reached out a hand, and I felt compelled to take it.

My uncle shouted, ‘Give it the stone!’ I had brought a black stone from the pool that night. I threw it into the water, and the moment it touched the surface, the glow on my body rippled and then began to fade, like a candle being extinguished. The figure in the water seemed to sigh, and then it dissolved into the waves. When I emerged, my skin was back to normal, but I felt a permanent coldness in my bones, and I have never returned to that beach.

I still have the mark, a faint swirl on my left palm, like a tiny whirlpool. And on quiet nights, when the moon is full, I can feel a faint warmth in that spot, as if the glow is still waiting, patient, in the deep.