When they found Charles, he was slumped to the floor, looking up into a pale light, his eyes dilated like the eyes of a dog; the narrow passageway glistened in the moist dark.
Where was the light coming from? From a gentle harbor.
Charles shifted, and rose up from the floor. His features were like one who had been imprisoned in the earth, living for a time a worm. He moved closer to his friends. He seemed ravenous, so they receded until he said, “Don’t you want to know what I have seen?”
I have seen everything.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
You can’t see the bottom when you swim in the ocean. You can’t even see your body. If you are out for fun on a bright sunny day the beach is always in sight. But in the wide troughs of slow rolling swells the land disappears and your mind focuses on what you can’t see, what you might look like from below, to whatever creature your imagination conjures. So you command your attention above the water, where you still have some control; and you notice that there is no horizon. Just an overwhelming volume of cold gray salt water that laps at your mouth.
ReplyDeleteAlone in the ocean it is easy to comprehend the insignificance of your bobbing head to even the most vigilant of rescuers, and suddenly the water feels colder, less refreshing, and your teeth start to chatter and you think that your ever moving arms might be growing tired. They feel heavy. It is time to go in you tell yourself.
And then a swell picks you up and up and up and you once again see the reassuring white strip of land with tiny figures dotting its length. You are not sure, but you think it is getting smaller. Further away. And then it disappears all together as you glide gently back down into another desolate gray trough.
You can’t see the bottom when you swim in the ocean.