Beneath a Drowning Sea [On Hold]

For all have reason here to be.

 I

I had already lost track of the days but it would be a while yet before I would cease to care. The salt that caked my beaten form continued to wash easily off but my method of relief, the cold sea water, mockingly replaced every grain with an identical other. At first, I had wondered if it did not dissolve at all. But then, after days and days of washing and replacing, it had begun to burn. Now there was only one observation that mattered.

I shivered in the dark, rubbing life into my arms.

It was a blistering wind that blew that night; cold, wet and sharp. I had always known the wind and the sea to be close but their dance was more intricate and deadly than any I had ever seen in this timeless place. They made a fearsome pair and I shivered, pulling up my collar; my vain attempt to become as insignificant as possible. Too many forces  awoke this night and I was not so foolish as to believe they would pass me by.

I had never been a water child before but the longer I was here, the more fish I became. Oh, I had seen land as such, but it was not the same. Nothing here was untouched by salt or sea and, other than on nights such as these, even the wind in this place lay more often bloated and still.

 "What you cowering for, girl?"

The Mate's rough hand thudded into my shoulder and I skidded on slick decking, throwing out hands in an attempt to attest my fall. Though we continued to pitch and roll, my nails raked through the railing's thick layer of slime and I kept my footing. The Mate was already gone as I straightened, running my fungus coated hands down my front. I made no concession with my disgust.  Even the ships on this sea had drowned, once, or were ­still in the process of drowning. It was hard to tell.

I did not want to follow him. I wanted to stay here, at the railing, and stare, like the moon did, whilst the wind taunted the sea. Drenched as I was, the risk of going overboard was far more friendly than what waited on the foredeck.

Here, they called the wind 'the Spinster.' Without the company of land currents and just the ocean's endless expanse, there was no meeting of North wind, South wind, coastal or sea. There was just the lazy, broken Spinster.

I sighed as I watched her goad the sea's endless throes and she screeched back at me, tugging at the roots of my hair and clawing my face. I shrank back, remembering my vow of invisibility, and she turned contemptuously from my cowardice. I flushed at the injustice. I, at least, was still trying to live. She did not fool me. I knew that when this night and this moment passed, she would fall back into her stupor.

Her rebuttal whipped my tattered bangs across my face and, for a blissful second, I thought it was her that had begun, once more, to shriek. But no, not this time. I was not so lucky. The night was reaching its climax and I was about to partake in something heinous. This was one of those legendary moments, the kind that were written down in the history books, the kind that had been written in the books of the fates since the beginning of time.

And I was not supposed to be here.

"Ah Sierra." I droned, repeating my mantra. "There's no reason to be here, but everyone has a reason for..."

Another piercing scream split my thoughts and I accepted my fate, turning from the ocean and back towards our hypnotic captive.

The foredeck had been crafted perfectly for this moment, for this one act. If I had known, I would not have beckoned this berth, I would have remained in the water and taken my chances on finding another to rescue me. If I had known I would rather have drowned.

 The crew, just five men, already encircled their catch. I stepped reluctantly up to the ship's mast and rested my palms on the rotting wood. I would bear witness, for I had been asked, but I would not get close.