Not Afraid
Some grey has started to creep into her vivid red hair now, but it’s not visible here in the early dawn light. The wind is bitterly cold, but she doesn’t notice. She’s hypnotised by the movement of the waves lapping against the harbour wall where she stands.
A solitary black fin rises from the turbulent water’s surface and draws closer; a universal symbol of danger, sleek malevolence. The harbour is deep, and presents no trouble for the oceanic whitetip; one of the most aggressive of its species. She notices it immediately, but doesn’t feel the need to move.
It draws closer, fruitlessly seeking prey in this stone-lined place. It is not aware of her standing so far above. She watches it with interest.
“Leave a light on for me,” she whispers. The creature neither hears nor cares, and at last circles around to head once again out to sea.
Belinda Carlisle is not afraid of sharks.