All I can remember is the wind howling and the bridge crumbling. I could feel the cool water wash across me, as I sunk deeper. When I laid my head down to rest… just a moment's rest.
Sunlight flickered through the mirrored depths, giving an almost surreal air to the scene. The water was blistering cold and unforgiving, as it always is during wintertime. Crumbling pieces of rock and plaster filled his vision, only reaching up to the surface as the entire structure sank into the river, as something floated within the distance— probably swimming downstream to the sea or something. Michael Yew was no oceanographing expert. His quiver dragging him down, he sank; trying to warm himself with thoughts of anything good, but only the growls of the monsters came to mind. The thoughts of his cabin chilled his spine, though, but let his mind wander.
Michael had left his bow back there, somewhere, wherever somewhere was at this point. He left his with Will's, Kayla's, Austin's, but he didn't plan on going back. His bow would be either a marker showing where he went or a grave for an un-buried body. Either one was fine at this point, the latter preferred. If only someone could reach out or if this family shit Jackson spouted was so damn fake. He'd be fine but the feeling of being alone was crushing him. He could almost hear the silence blaring around him. Michael sunk, wishing he could hear anything, anything at all— just not this godsdamned silence.
The bridge's supports were weakening. The cut marks, I had seen them and I knew that we'd find win this battle.
Instead of the silent agony of the ocean, the splashes of something hitting the water were heard above Michael— they weren't far off, just at the top of the river. He hadn't been floating long. Maybe there were people here now, looking for him. All of them who had fallen when the bridge snapped. But they would never find any of them— maybe just the bodies and shadows, the families that would never see them again as they disappeared into nothingness. The splashes became louder, and the choir ushered in the sound of the talking of men.
Michael couldn't yell. His throat was tightened up too badly and he could only wave. He was scared that this was his only chance, yet angered by everyone else's' death except for his. Trying to scream, he tried to exalt his voice, and something (a sob) came out. Water rushed in and reality seemed to claw it's way up his body slowly.
"Hey! Look over there, is that one of them?" A searcher called out.
Heads turned and the faces looked surprised and utterly in shock. One even dropped his sword as he took off to get Michael, to bring him back above the surface. Yew flailed and his sobbing increased, almost gasping for air as Lee's face looked into his as his brothers and sisters who had died crowded around him.
He told me 'Don't be afraid'. I tried my best before I called out into the false heavens for forgiveness of anything I had done, for a sign. I only wished he could save me now.
It was the bitter cold of the water that awakened Michael, numbing him and preventing movement, even as pieces of the bridge fell all around him. His blue eyes flickered within the dark. Wanting to hear something, anything he started to thrash, in a blind attempt to get to the surface. He watched helplessly as a large metal hook grabbed him by the quiver and sunk him down, deeper and deeper into the cold.
Michael screamed in frustration. Bubbles darted swiftly to the surface, and he realized that all of his air was gone.
A single leaf, almost red in it's pre-autumn colors. It floated ever so slowly, hung nearly motionless in the water and bathed in light.
Michael's shirt was pattered with the flashing ripples of the surface, and it was almost warm. He could lay back and floatlike the leaf, fall asleep and be so comfortable- but he knew what that meant; he'd freeze to death or drown in the frigid water. But death was warm, and it washed over you. It was painless to die in the cold.
"Oh…" Michael thought to himself as he sank deeper and deeper, in his wild dream and in his fading life.
It would wash over him, it would be okay and his brother would take care of him once he fell asleep. His brother would protect him and pat him again, keep him safe from all the terrors in the world.
The surface above was rippling, light dancing across the waves and sending waves of light across his body. Only the deep blue yonder filled his vision before he closed his eyes and found himself laying within the cabin that he came to know during the last few years of his life, ever since he had discovered his godly heritage. No one would ever know if he was okay. He wouldn't ever know if they were still alive. But Michael Yew could feel the sheets around him as he slept, dreaming of familiar blue eyes peering into his, smiling, and whispering those dreaded words...that 'don't be afraid'.
There was nothing to fear in death if it washed over you. There was nothing to fear because there was only warmth.
Only warmth.