A Night of Bitter Dreams.

Illusive, are the humpback whales that evade my mind. They arrive without warning, drifting through darkness like passing clouds on a moonlit night. Oblivious, to the hustle and bustle of an untamed world far below.

The nights here, lack in tenderness. Fine crystals of ice frame the windowpanes and an unwelcome brush of bitterness provokes me to find refuge under the safety of my quilt. Silence fills the space between, as muffled thuds fall from the ceiling. The hush exchange of delicate words creep in through a breach in the window. Creaks and cracks shift through the air as the whole world sways in undulation.

Tranquility preserved, as time which had once passed ceased to exist. As a clocks tick slowly falls behind, hypnotised and content.

But something is wrong...

I toss and turn on pins and needles. Unshackled, the outer reaches of my quilt become apparent. Corrosion sets in to the surrounding walls as a clocks tick moves yet again. In search of reality my extended hand penetrates comfort, as it is met by the piercing kiss of the Atlantic sea.

I wake! To a bleak wasteland of frostbitten limbs, aching bones, and rattling teeth. The numbing scent of burnt coal stains the sky. Glimmering white headstones are buoyant landmarks for the ill-fated.

I remember now!

Distant memories etching themselves inside my skull. The revolving floor of a crowd in unison. A symphony of ringing glass as strangers bond over past, present and future. Floating euphoria, navigating its way through a faceless world.

Evanescent - to chaos and its unforgiving descent.

I sit and stare into a vacant space. Nothing but the mirrored image of a black night sky, against the salty abyss. Under the prying eyes of a silver moon. I think of them, the treasures in the ocean. Caressed by the depths and hidden away. Still holding onto the rusted railings of a derelict coffin. Along with jewels, coins and heart shaped lockets. Swallowed whole by the unfriendly expanse.

Roaming the sea. Somewhere between the world of the living and the world of the dead. My past is brought to the present. A young boy sits to my left, huddled under a tweed blanket. Skin painted luminescent white. Tattered clothes resemble sheets of washing hung out to dry. A wave of desperation corrodes his spirit, as the affliction beneath his skin lingers. Pain that goes beyond torment amid the bitter steel swings or the anxiety ridden veins of Belfast.

His name, is Thomas.

He can't remember his family's face. They were here yesterday. But now they are gone. My heart fills with sorrow and the blood in my veins turns to shattered glass. I've forgotten what it is, to feel such love. Going through the motions. Taking for granted the fleeting moments. Flipping each page and telling myself that it's just a phase. Chasing feelings and feeling empty. Never stopping, until now.

As we push on, through the ghostly haze and the falling snow. The young boy gradually fades, like the corroding walls of my haunting slumber. With a deep breath, I close my eyes.

I can hear the sounds of a life left behind. The splashing and clatter of dishes, from my mother at the kitchen sink. My sister's call resonates through the house, beaming with curiosity. A swinging axe sends strikes of lightning, as my father is hard at work outside.

I open my eyes...

To a warm embrace, pouring through my window. Another day has dawned, bringing with it a second chance. To prevent regrets that weigh heavy on my pillow. To live completely and to love unconditionally. I leap out of bed and check the calendar...

- 15th April 1912.