Float

It feels as though I have been stuck out here for an eternity.

Days bleed into nights as time dances before me, muddled by the empty murmurs of water in my ears. The echo of waves crashes onto my eardrum in a silencing of my internal clock. I have been out here for so long that I no longer know how long I have been out here.

Above me is a sheet of blue, empty like the waters below me.

Or so I think. I’ve seen so much blue and darkness for days and have begun to question whether other colours, yellow, purple, red, are truly the pigments of the skies themselves or figments of my imagination. I also question the gap in my memory as to how I ended up here; did I black out or did I block out what happened?

My skin is pale and brittle and damp and blistered from the beaming sun above me. I feel the thrash of my hair against my face as heavy waves pick me up and drop me back down onto the surface of the ocean. Face up, I’ve sat through daylight and dark nights of heavy downpours and light drizzles. My bones are cold and I wonder if I’ll ever feel dry again.

I lost my strength to swim a long while back. At least, I’ve been floating for so long that I assume that to be the case. I’ve lost track of the number of days that have passed since I began my descent of the ocean waters but I know it has been many. Uncertain of the circumstances that lead me to my current predicament, I stopped asking myself questions; there I found solace in knowing that certain things would remain unknown. Sometimes, it’s best to leave the skeletons in our closet undisturbed.

I honestly do not know how I got here.

My memory of the night I was brought to the water is faint. My mind contains nothing more than the sensations of the event. I remember seeing everything in red. I remember the smell of wet soil and leaves. I remember my skin feeling warm and dirty. I remember the taste of salt on my tongue. I remember the sound of scattered screams and broken, crunching matter shattering under the weight of heavy tools.

Waterlogged and heavy, I float into the nothingness of the waters surrounding me. Endless horizons wait before me, but the weight of my soaked skin is too much for me to bear and I worry that I will never feel the sand beneath me again.

The sun is beginning to set, and the sky is turning into a violent red. I imagine a storm of blood washing over me, drops falling into my eyes and mouth. Choking, I begin to slump deeper into the water below, gasping for air as my head begins to submerge into the stained underbelly of the ocean. Crimson waves pull over my face and into my lungs as I try to cough and sputter and scream. I shut my eyes and imagine being pulled in by pointed, outreached hands. Filthy fingernails scratch the base of my skull as mangled fingers tangle into my long black hair, dragging my head into the murky darkness of the water.

Suddenly, my eyes shoot open. The rain has ceased, and the skies are clear. I hear voices in the distance.

“Hey! Look out there, do you see that?”

Am I hearing this correctly, or is this another hallucination? It sounds so real. Maybe I’m nearing the shore.

“Wait…No…It can’t be.”

Almost there. I can hear the excitement in the voices that pierce through the water muffling my ears.

“Oh my god – it’s a head! I think I’m going to be sick…where the hell are the eyes?!”

Finally, I’ve been found.