Page 2 of For the Strange and Surprising

Behind me, a waterspout begins to form, and my heart rate kicks up a notch.

The old motor on the dinky aluminum fishing boat sputters from the misuse I’ve been putting it through, and then it dies. I pick up the paddle and frantically try to fight the waves as I whisper thanks to my dad for insisting we always have a backup plan.

But it’s no use.

There is no way I’ll make it to safety before the storm catches me.

I’ll die in the water, a poetic and ironic ending after being born on a boat. Twenty-two years of the ocean being my best friend, and it stabs me in the back.

At this moment, my life really does flash before my eyes in the most cliche of ways. I don’t like what I see. My memories are filled with heartache and despair. I’ve lost everyone who meant something to me.

I’m alone.

I’ll always be alone.

The open ocean is my peace, my sanctuary.

If the water wants more than my soul, then she can have all of me.

As the skydivers get pulled into the spout, a tear rolls down my cheek, mixing with the raindrops. She didn’t need to take them too. Not when I’m willing to give myself over without a fight.

I drop the paddle, sparing one last glance at the blue horizon, and turn to face my fears. All the loss, all the anguish, all the loneliness; it comes to an abrupt stop in my mind.

I place my hand over my heart, over the picture of my family.

I close my eyes as a tender smile graces my lips.

And I brave the storm.

Adelaide

Day One

Dying hurts worse than I thought it would.

My lungs ache with the need for fresh oxygen. My eyes burn when I try to open them. But the imagery of the water is warm and inviting. It lulls me into a peaceful sort of rest.

If it weren’t for the pain, I might enjoy this death.

I pry my eyes open, ignoring the sting as I glance around my eternal coffin. Soothing blue hues surround me. I feel as though I’m floating in a dream-like void where I’m one with the ocean. It washes all my insecurities away, allowing me to just be.

Below me, it’s eerie and unsettling. The light is nonexistent as the darkness creeps up. Its luring tendrils spread out, slim feet from grasping my ankles, to pull me down into the mouth of the trench.

Above me, though? It’s luminescent and tempting. The sun-like reflection taunts me, calling my name in hopes that I’ll reach for it. And I do. I stretch my arms up and up, pulling myself toward the brightness.

I’ve never been very religious; however, I wonder what it says about me; that the water is begging me to move up instead of letting me sink into the open maw below.

As I part my hands, dragging myself closer to the light. A red, ink-like cloud catches my attention as it oozes from my forearm. At the sight, all the tranquility flees from my mind. Horror takes its place.

I’m not dead.

My chest is aching because I need to breathe.

My eyes burn because I’m in the ocean.

In the ocean…

With a bleeding arm…