Will
Above Will's head, waves chased each other into the sand, pounding out a ferocious rhythm. Turning, Will dove deeper into the sea. Seaweed and coral flickered by as he swam deeper. The sunlight twisted and writhed around him, dancing around him in an undistinguishable pattern. Brightly coloured fish fluttered through the light, somehow matching its dance. Through all this Will swam, deeper and deeper, until his lungs filled with water and salt and he flew up to the surface, gasping.
And then down again he dove. Again and again, going deeper and deeper every time. Swimming faster, forcing himself through the water as though to rub all his memories away like dead skin; and then rushing to the surface, out of breath and once again grasping at the memories, trying to hold them to him, bring them all to life again, fervently praying they would never leave. Only to dive again and again.
Finally, exhausted, he just floated, letting the salty wind scratch at him with prickling claws. Gulls screamed over-head and waves leapt over him, eager to beat the others to shore. Closing his eyes he let it all float around him, drift away from him like streamers in a breeze.
And then again, he dove. Always deeper, always farther, then the time before. And always coming to the surface just before anything happened. His mother had told him not to get lost as he'd left the house. On the way here he'd almost laughed. He was already lost, he went to the sea to try and find himself again, but never actually succeeding.
He dove again, throwing himself through the water, farther and farther until he could no longer see the dancing light, and the drumming of the waves evolved into a far more complex song. He should go up, up before he lost it all, but there was water all around him. There was no up or down, just music and water. And blackness.
Will struggled out of his cheap cotton sheets. In his sleep he had tied them around him in uncountable knots. Collapsing onto the floor, he struggled over to open his window. The night air was tinged with the smell of salt and floating on it came the pounding of the waves. Even though he lived in a small town in the middle of England. He tumbled out his window, following the rhythms, he had no choice, there was no up or down, just music and water. And blackness.
Above Will's head, waves chased each other into the sand, pounding out a ferocious rhythm. Turning, Will dove deeper into the sea. Seaweed and coral flickered by as he swam deeper. The sunlight twisted and writhed around him, dancing around him in an undistinguishable pattern. Brightly coloured fish fluttered through the light, somehow matching its dance. Through all this Will swam, deeper and deeper, until his lungs filled with water and salt and he flew up to the surface, gasping.
And then down again he dove. Again and again, going deeper and deeper every time. Swimming faster, forcing himself through the water as though to rub all his memories away like dead skin; and then rushing to the surface, out of breath and once again grasping at the memories, trying to hold them to him, bring them all to life again, fervently praying they would never leave. Only to dive again and again.
Finally, exhausted, he just floated, letting the salty wind scratch at him with prickling claws. Gulls screamed over-head and waves leapt over him, eager to beat the others to shore. Closing his eyes he let it all float around him, drift away from him like streamers in a breeze.
And then again, he dove. Always deeper, always farther, then the time before. And always coming to the surface just before anything happened. His mother had told him not to get lost as he'd left the house. On the way here he'd almost laughed. He was already lost, he went to the sea to try and find himself again, but never actually succeeding.
He dove again, throwing himself through the water, farther and farther until he could no longer see the dancing light, and the drumming of the waves evolved into a far more complex song. He should go up, up before he lost it all, but there was water all around him. There was no up or down, just music and water. And blackness.
Will struggled out of his cheap cotton sheets. In his sleep he had tied them around him in uncountable knots. Collapsing onto the floor, he struggled over to open his window. The night air was tinged with the smell of salt and floating on it came the pounding of the waves. Even though he lived in a small town in the middle of England. He tumbled out his window, following the rhythms, he had no choice, there was no up or down, just music and water. And blackness.