Short stories are hard. I said something like this in my post about my short film White Room and I don’t think that I could have said anything more true. For this website I wanted to dabble in all of the mediums of entertainment that I find enjoyable. My first post was about making a film, my second was about writing music for a film, and my latest is about my writing short stories and other forms of fiction. The truth is that I am a sucker for a good story. I really mean that. Stories are my  favorite teachers and I find satisfaction in the fact that they can teach me things about life that others cannot, despite their trying.

Although it may not be the best idea to rely so heavily on the dramatizations of life. I think that everyone has something to say and it is in literature and film that the best things are said.  Case and Point: Battlestar Galactica, Twin Peaks, The Green Mile, and even the Darth Bane trilogy all have impressive commentaries on the things that really matter in life. So, here is something I crafted for you, perhaps you’ll see the metaphor or maybe you’ll see something else. I only hope that you enjoy it as much as I do. 

P.S. Read this one line for line, it is not built for speed.

See:

It is dark. The air is clean and cool. You are alone and around you, far in the distance, are sparkling points of light. Each of which looks as though some unfathomable giant took a great big needle and pierced the black about you like a cloth. Casting narrow shafts of white down from the holes that hang at the edge of the Ether.

Below you is nothingness. You float there in the vast nothingness of night. Its waters lap against your body. Where it embraces you in the most gentle caress at the cheekbones and the bottom of your lip. Far from your thoughts you can feel the dry stretch of your toes, which jut from the waters surface like archipelago. And in your ears you can hear the sounds of the creature that twists its way through the depths below. It is a low and glassy sound that moves through you as it moves through those dark and depthless waters.

On the surface there are no signs of the life that slinks beneath you. Though if it were to rise, to breathe deep the crisp air, then surely there would be a wave, no. A mountain of water, cold and dark, would rush down to meet you. Hungry for your now soggy loosened flesh and starving for the oxygen in your lungs.

So, you tread softly with your weak arms and legs. You tread so softly that you feel as if you will soon be sinking. And yet, it sees you there suspended in that dark and viscous liquid. Made heavy by the panic that arises in your chest.

Then you feel it.

You feel the beast twitch upwards, towards the water’s even surface, and a low groan escapes from deep within your throat. It is an involuntary sound that makes its way into the empty space outside of you.

From the water it comes, sailing its bulk through the air with the crushing distortion of a rogue wave wrapping itself around a lighthouse in an storm. Jaws open and then close around your naked sounds. Worrying their distress with its nodule tongue, the beast tastes them for substance and context, as it descends to the waters still surface.

Then you wait.

You wait for the air to grow damp and the roar of thunder to rip through the dark waters once more. You wait for the grip of that frigid tidal wave to pull you towards its summit. For its dull fingers to lift you into the black sky where you hope that you will be gifted with a solitary moment of relief. A moment where the anxiety that you feel, which is now in your head, will dissipate. You wait, for when that moment will end and all of that cold fluid will devour you and crush your bones with thousands more pounds of barometric pressure than you are able to physically withstand. Your hair will rip from your scalp, your teeth will rupture from their sockets, and your heart will collapse. Anguish escapes you, this time it comes from your stomach, in hitched breaths and animal sounds. Screams…it is a scream that you hear, guttural and violating, until there is nothing left outside of you and everything you hear has turned to white noise.

Yet, there is nothing. No waves, or mountains moved against you.

But see:

Here it comes again.

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