The silence in Sarah’s head had texture—waves licking sand, leaving foamy layers. She blinked in a doctor removing his mask. His top lip shaped like a seagull, flapped, while she floated in the ocean, hearing her mother laugh on shore, “You’re growing fins!”

Underwater there wasn’t terror or pain. No crush of metal during the car ride home, salt still in her ears, following a deafening scream.

Sarah mapped the soundless flight of the doctor’s words. “Can. You. Hear. Me?”

Everything still underwater. She closed her eyes, tempted by the sea, before using her fins to bring her back.


Sabrina Hicks’ work has appeared in Writer’s Digest, Gyroscope Review, Panoply, Poetry Breakfast, Rat’s Ass Review, Spelk Fiction, and Toasted Cheese Literary Journal.


Photo Credit: lavagirl66

3 Responses to “Underwater”

  1. Jordan Green says:

    I love this memoir. simply riveting! The thing that topped it off was the comparison of being inside Sarah’s head to being underwater.

  2. Taylor says:

    It’s writting and the way the author has written this review of underwater is fabulous I loved and I have counted the words they are ? hats off for the writter ??

  3. Katie Lewis says:

    I read this over and over. Absolutely stunning writing.

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