Previously published in Aegeon #9 (April 2024)
Note from the chairman of Oceanus Incognitus:
Much has been written about the sinking of the research vessel Bright Aurora last July, but the recent partial recovery of the wreckage and the finding of a diary allegedly belonging to Project Director, Dr. Adrian Wood will unfortunately only lead to further speculation. The small, leather-bound diary was found on the beach of a low island about seventy miles east of the site where the Bright Aurora sank to the ocean floor. Dr. Wood had been overseeing an oceanographic and hydrographic survey of the vast uncharted oceans of the planet Thetis. The immense, mostly water-covered planet had been settled for less than four years at that time, and most of the oceans remained- as indeed they still do today- entirely unexplored.
The cause of the sinking, in clear and calm weather approximately six hundred miles from the port of departure, remains a mystery- unless Dr. Wood’s diary account is to be accepted. All that is known with certainty is that the vessel issued a distress signal on the night of 20th July, and another early on the morning of the 21st, after which nothing is known except for its eventual, inexplicable sinking. All of the thirty-eight individuals on board the ship are presumed dead, though not a single body has been recovered to date. At this time and until investigation into the matter is closed, Dr. Wood’s account must be met with strong skepticism due to the clearly deteriorating mental state of the author at the time of writing.
The proposed publication of Dr. Wood’s diary has been met with hostility in some circles, the most vehement of these being Thetis’ burgeoning Department of Tourism, but the society of Oceanus Incognitus has decided in favor of its general release with the aim of discouraging anyone from venturing too far from known waters until more facts come to light. Despite the overwhelming skepticism towards the veracity of the final entries of the diary, it should be noted that all previous entries have been corroborated wherever possible and the details confirmed as accurate. What is transcribed here is Dr. Wood’s account of the events that followed his arrival on Thetis and the disembarkation of the vessel Bright Aurora from the port of Novus Ostia. These final entries are given verbatim and without comment.
15th, Month of the Divine Julius 2279-
Arrived on the sweltering planet of Thetis around midday. As my equipment was being unloaded, I arranged for it to be immediately transported to the Bright Aurora, which awaits us in the harbor of Novus Ostia. My driver was a young man, deeply tanned by the relentless Thetian sun. He talked incessantly, with an enthusiasm about the planet that was quite infectious. I have no doubt that Thetis will soon become the top holiday destination of the Federation. Even now, luxury hotels and sprawling villas are going up in prime locations from Memphis to the port towns of Poseidonia and Novus Ostia. Memphis, a bustling hub of commerce, is exotically beautiful. The wide streets are paved with crushed, pastel-coloured seashells and the throngs of pedestrians are shaded by mammoth palm trees.
My driver dropped me off at the Oasis Hotel, right in the heart of the thriving capital. The stately, four storey stone structure is only a year old and exquisitely decorated inside and out. The floors and pillars are of a striking local marble- soft purple veined with white. The ground floor is dotted with quaint little courtyards, and the central atrium is an impressively cultivated collection of native greenery with curious, flowering vines; slim, exotic fruit trees; blossom-laden urns; and a tasteful, silver-basined fountain at its core.
I am retiring early, as the spaceflight was an extraordinarily long one, by far the longest I’ve ever endured. It has left me utterly exhausted and I must be up at dawn. Tomorrow, in the spirit of Erikson, Cabot, Tasman, Cook, Amundsen, and all the other great explorers of old, I shall set sail on virgin seas.
16th, Month of the Divine Julius 2279-
On the way to the docks, I bid my driver to take a brief detour to see the marvelous Fountain of Thetis, so recently finished, and about which I had heard a great deal during its construction. Designed by the worlds-renowned artist Giovanni Rovere, it stands in the middle of the Federal Plaza between the Temple of Neptune and the sprawling governor’s palace. In the centre of the fountain stands the planet’s beautiful namesake, Thetis, an infant Achilles in her arms. Looming above her and mounted on a hippocampus is Nereus, her regal father, a full twenty-six feet tall, not counting his immense steed. About their feet and spreading all throughout the fountain in a cascade are the other Nereids, along with an assortment of aquatic beasts both real and fantastic. The effect of the sun and spray on the almost translucent, blue-white stone makes the figures look as if they were sculpted from some mammoth block of ice, defiantly unmelting in spite of the tropical setting. It is a triumphant work that rivals the masterpieces of Bernini.
I met my team and the crew of the Bright Aurora at a seaside café. From our table on the patio we could see our glimmering ship awaiting us at anchor. Lunch was fresh fish and fruit- all of it excellent, and unlike any I had had before. The captain is a broad, red-bearded, jolly fellow of about sixty. A distinguished Navy veteran retired from active duty, he now accepts commissions from the Oceanus Incognitus on select assignments. Olsen, his first mate, is tall and blonde and much younger. He is as reserved as captain Hendricks is boisterous, but very polite. We met the rest of the crew, about twenty others in all, when we boarded our majestic vessel.
It was local solar noon when we set sail. I spent the first few hours on deck taking in the scenery before setting to work on the equipment. It is difficult to convey in capsule form any impression of this exotic, alien world. The closest comparison I could make would be to the Caribbean Sea on Earth, though the colours and aspect of the vegetation differ, sometimes wildly. There are monstrous, hibiscus-like flowers that grow profusely along the mangroves, and have a very deadly look to them. The waters are a vivid teal, clear and completely unmuddled. From stout overhanging branches on the trees of the tiny islets perch great pelican-like birds, the largest avian species I have ever seen, their feathers a brilliant lemon yellow. The sheer size of the creatures give them a pterodactyllic aspect, especially when they unfurl their great wings to fly low over the water in search of fish. Thetis will need its own Audubon to catalog all of the incredible species to found at every turn. Truly a planet of endless, breathtaking wonder.
17th, Month of the Divine Julius 2279-
I believe that I am quickly growing accustomed to the tropical climate. In fact, I feel a renewed vigour that has long been lacking. This is in spite of the long hours I have spent under electric lights, setting up the research room on the ship’s lowest level. My top assistant, Hopkins has been indispensable in these endeavors, as many of the devices or their components are of his design. He’s a staggering genius, and already quite accomplished for a man still a few years shy of thirty. It was a long process, but it went smoothly, and I made a point to take frequent breaks for fresh air on deck. The heat is quite fierce, though, even out here on the open sea. The thermometer near the pilot house reached 109 degrees today. I imagine the temperatures far in on the great continents at this latitude must be utterly unbearable.
I have also spent a great deal of time analyzing the rough charts made by my tepid predecessors and correcting errors, though I was surprised to find how accurate the initial calculations were for the work of amateurs. Of course, the further out we have gone the less accurate these charts became, and I have now discarded them altogether. By nightfall of the first day we were beyond the lanes known to the local fishermen. This morning found us in largely uncharted waters. I have mapped every islet we have come across, no matter how insignificant. In addition, much of my focus has been bathymetry- using multibeam sonar signals to chart the ocean floor. Only recently have we passed into truly deep waters, with all landmasses left far behind in our wake. The nearest land now, aside from that which stretches in eternal darkness some three miles below the ship, is entirely unknown to us. The final reading of the day showed that we are approaching an immense trench that may well prove to be deeper than the great Mariana Trench on Earth.
I spent the evening with my team and most of the crew on the forward deck watching the sunset. A simple dinner was served as the low cumulus clouds were set aglow with gorgeous shades of purple, crimson, and gold. The seascape around me is strangely hypnotizing, and I frequently catch myself daydreaming of the most incredible images and senses that a mind could possibly conjure. As if under the influence of some powerful opiate, I find myself set adrift amidst forms and impressions seemingly without relevance to anything familiar.
I was aroused out of one of these stupors by a shout from Olsen, the first mate, who claimed to see a very large, dark shape briefly surface in the last minutes before twilight. He excitedly rushed below deck to see if the instruments had captured a reading. The fishermen of Novus Ostia have reportedly hauled in some sizable fish specimens, but nothing like a whale- as Olsen’s description would indicate- or indeed any marine mammal has yet been recorded. Alas, the first mate returned disappointed, for the alleged creature evidently escaped detection, and we turned in for the night.
18th, Month of the Divine Julius 2279-
Awoke from the most incredibly intense dream last night, drenched in sweat. It was so strange and vivid that it has remained etched on my mind all day. In it I knew unnameable pleasures, yet the dream had an undercurrent brimming with sinister suggestion. It was terrifying and alluring and- well, I’d rather forget it forever than record the details for posterity. I have ascribed this episode to the fantastic scenery of the planet stirring my imagination, but the heat could just as easily be to blame.
My memories of the morning’s events after I rose seem oddly disjointed, but it was certainly past midday when I finally made my way down to the research room. I found the team very animated, and they rushed me to the instruments. It appears that the trench we are over continues to deepen. The last reading I observed registered the ocean floor at approximately 6.24 miles below us, and we expect that number to steadily increase overnight. Occasionally, the instruments will show us passing over plateaus, or high mountainous ridges submerged beneath us, but generally the floor continues to fall away into further abysses.
We had another sunset dinner on deck, this time with the entire crew, including captain Hendricks. Olsen had been reclusive all day and, when he finally appeared, looked as if he hadn’t slept at all last night. The captain was in the middle of a harrowing tale from his distinguished past when- completely unprompted- Olsen kicked over his chair and began heaving items from the table overboard, screaming all the while. Cocktail glasses, plates, even his deck chair were pitched into the sea before the cook and a deckhand succeeded in restraining him. It was the most baffling occurrence. Olsen was screaming the most inane gibberish, and it seemed to me that his throws overboard were aimed at something- something apparently only he could see. I found the episode unnerving, especially with last night’s dream still haunting me. Dr. Stevens blamed the heat, and Olsen was carried down to his room, accompanied by the physician for a thorough examination.
After twilight had dissipated and full dark had set in, I stretched out alone on a long deck chair to study the stars. It was while looking at these strange constellations that I truly felt the light-years of distance from everything I have ever known. I fell into one of those trance-like states again, and I thought I could hear singing emanating from somewhere far-off. It was akin to the most rapturous choir, but otherworldly, genuinely indescribable. I was again enveloped in that opium ecstasy. The singing drew nearer, and I swear I heard faint splashes only a little distance away. These were apart from the rhythmic sound of the waves gently lapping against the ship. Then another sound crept in, tearing me out of my stupor- a soft weeping from somewhere below deck. Olsen, no doubt. The divine singing died away at once. I waited awhile for it to return, but the irritating cries of our mad first mate persisted, and I gave up and retired to my room.
19th, Month of the Divine Julius 2279-
I awoke in the early hours from the same fervent dream as the previous night, but it was somehow more intense, more real than before. It was screaming that woke me, coming from down the hall. There was a lot of commotion, everyone spilling out into the corridor. I followed the half-dressed crowd to Olsen’s cabin where I beheld several men attempting to restrain him on the bed, where he thrashed and shrieked. He was given a heavy sedative which soon rendered him unconscious. I consulted with the captain, Dr. Stevens, and Garrett the navigation officer. Stevens, though a medical doctor and not a psychologist, had much to say about Olsen’s mental state. We soon agreed to confine Olsen to his room indefinitely under the supervision of Dr. Stevens.
There was a marked decline in the general mood and atmosphere today. Everyone I talked to seemed to be in foul spirits. No doubt Olsen’s breakdown has contributed, but I can’t help but feel there is more to it than that. It’s as if there is a heavy cloud of expectation hanging over us, expectation of some unknown calamity. Captain Hendricks has been drinking at all hours, and every member of my team acts inexplicably despondent, some verging on the point of despair. I cornered my data expert Pierce, the most moribund of them all, near the companionway. He admitted to suffering from extremely lucid dreams at night, and has even been found above deck, sleepwalking. This revelation alarmed me, and I pressed him for details of the dreams, but I must have been too forceful, for he shut down and slipped away to his room.
Later, I spoke again with Garrett, the navigation officer. He’s a tough, military-looking man with a no-nonsense attitude and, I believe, sound judgment. I told him of my worries, and what Pierce had said to me earlier. To my extreme unease, he responded by saying that he too was experiencing the same nighttime symptoms. Garrett was a bit more forthcoming about the details of his dreams, but only due to my insistent prodding. He described the same beautiful women I had dreamt of, and the same underwater caverns dimly lit by some kind of bioluminescent algae. He would go no further, nor did he need to. Clearly, there is some strange phenomenon plaguing us. Both Garrett and I fear what may result if these symptoms worsen. Tomorrow, we shall discuss with the captain the possibility of turning back to port.
The lack of restful sleep is beginning to take its toll on me, yet the thought of going to bed is daunting. I want nothing more than a long night of dreamless oblivion.
20th, July 2279-
Things so strange happening that I must do my best to record them as accurately as possible. My work has been halted indefinitely. The captain remains perpetually drunk and has locked himself in his cabin. Meanwhile, Olsen remains confined to his room, where he continues his endless ravings and threats. Garrett is fed up with both of them. He has taken the liberty of issuing a distress signal, for he believes, as I do, that captain Hendricks is unfit for his position of authority.
A knock at the door- I am urgently needed…
Later-
I was called away to Olsen’s room where I found Garrett and some of the deckhands. On the bed lay not the first mate, but an unconscious Dr. Stevens, head newly wrapped in bandages. Garrett informed me that he had been in the pilothouse when he took notice of a prolonged silence. Olsen’s endless screaming and pounding and weeping had ceased. This racket had been going on for so long that its cessation made him feel perturbed. Upon investigation, he found Olsen missing, and Dr. Stevens bleeding and unconscious from a brutal blow to the head. Garrett dispatched a team of men to find him, and to summon me. We waited for their return for about ten minutes before deciding to assist in the search, but before we so much as exited the room one of the men returned. He reported finding Olsen above deck near the fore mast. These, if I remember correctly, are his exact words:
“I saw him leaning against the rail looking out at the water. I called his name several times, but he didn’t acknowledge me in the slightest. He just watched the water intently as if there was something of interest, though I saw nothing but waves. I walked over to him, very cautiously, calling ‘Olsen! Olsen, you alright?’ but he never broke his gaze from the sea. I was almost to him when without the slightest warning, he jumped overboard. He did it calmly, with purpose. I looked out to see if he would surface so I could throw him a buoy, but he never came back up. He just sank like a stone.”
Garrett and I went immediately to captain Hendricks to inform him of the incident, but he refused to open the door of his cabin. I shouted the news about Olsen through the closed door, and there was a long silence, then came his slurred reply: “Saw the sirens, did he? I’ve heard their song, but I haven’t seen ‘em yet, except in my dreams.”
A wheezing cough followed, then the heavy thud of a liquor bottle slammed-down onto a nightstand. The door creaked inward an inch or two and the captain’s red face appeared in the opening. He smiled a big drunken smile, but his eyes were without any trace of mirth.
“He ain’t dead, you know. They took him down there inside themselves. They’ll feed him oxygen to keep him alive, and the body will insulate him from the pressure that would otherwise crush his organs into mash. Well, I won’t be joining him. Won’t be tempted to follow him overboard if I stay in here!” He rasped out a laugh, then slammed the door in our faces. There was a clang as he threw the bolt lock in place. Despite our continued knocks and curses, we received no further reply.
Garrett has assumed control of the ship and turned our course back to port. Captain Hendricks will undoubtedly be charged for his dereliction of duty upon our return. Personally, I hope he is hanged.
Still later-
I, and all of my team are confined to our rooms until further notice. The ship is under attack.
After leaving the captain to his whiskey, I was called down to the research room. Only Hopkins was present, looking agitated and sleep-deprived. He informed me that our ship now floated an impossible eight miles above the ocean floor. “But,” he said, “that’s not why I called you down.” He then pointed a trembling finger towards the viewing monitor. What I saw on the screen, which showed the waters directly below the Bright Aurora- perhaps a few hundred yards down before the illumination was snuffed out by the deep abyss- was tenebrous and brief. The thing’s shape was irregular, asymmetrical, reminding me of an amoeba as seen through a microscope. It was very dark in colour, and judging by its distance from the ship, about the size of an orca, but the grainy video quality made discerning its features impossible. I would think for a moment that I could ascertain eyes, a mouth, both vaguely anthropomorphic, only to doubt that I was even examining the head of the creature. Others of its kind could be seen further in the distance, but I cannot say how many despite the powerful searchlight. They moved, jellyfish-like, in bursts in and out of view.
It was then that a single shot echoed deafeningly through the corridors. I left Hopkins to watch the monitor and rushed back the way I had come. I found Garrett and some of the others also attempting to find the source of the report. Apparently, Garrett and I feared the same thing, for we exchanged a knowing look and ran with haste back to the captain’s quarters. After a particularly stout deckhand successfully kicked in the door, we found captain Hendricks in a heap on the floor, dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the temple.
We gave the captain an expedited burial at sea, as per the customs of his fraternal order, with fewer than half of the men on board attending. Turner, the deckhand who had earlier witnessed Olsen’s plunge overboard, commented on how the body of Hendricks floated, unlike that of our late first mate. I couldn’t help but find the possible implication of the seemingly off-hand remark disturbing.
Afterwards, as Hopkins and I led Garrett down to the research room to show him our recently obtained footage, the ship heaved tremendously. There was a sound of crunching metal, and the ship briefly lost power. Garrett quickly sent men to check the hull. These found water pouring in through great fissures on the port side near the engine room. In a matter of minutes the lower level was completely flooded, including my research room and all its contents. Sixteen crewmembers immediately began work to seal it off. Whether or not they were successful remains unclear, for not a single one has returned. Dinghies are being prepared in case we must abandon ship. The situation hangs on a knife-edge. Writing obstructs insane, intrusive thoughts, and keeps me from panic as I await any news.
I know now that my coming to this planet was a mistake. Thetis- it is not deserving of the name- is not meant to be seeded by the blood of Rome. For these are not skies blessed by Jove; these waves do not belong to mighty Neptune. Nor were these creatures that seek us moulded by the wholesome clay of the Divine. What horrors lay in the unknown depths beneath us? Are these seemingly universal dreams, in reality, visions of our ultimate fate? Who are the beautiful women that await us down there? One thing I can say with certainty is that in those dreams, I saw every occupant of this ship with me in those watery caverns- everyone except for captain Hendricks. He, and only he, was never there. Perhaps he chose the only escape route from what is our inevitable doom.
That’s the emergency alarm…
24rd or 25th July, 2279-
I am writing this in the relative comfort of the shade of a luxuriant tree. Relative only in that I have finally escaped the relentless scorching sun which had nearly driven me to madness. My skin is burned and blistered so badly that I am in constant pain. This island I found is small enough that I have already explored it thoroughly, and found no trace of potable water. A few meager drops of morning dew not yet evaporated is all I was able to obtain. Any stream or pool that did not originate from the ocean is a reeking soup that I dare not drink no matter how desperate I become.
The events that led to where I am now passed by in a blur of panic, confusion, and terror, but I shall record what I remember to the best of my ability.
The emergency alarm signaled the resumption of the creature’s onslaught. The Bright Aurora began to sink rapidly. I grabbed a few things in haste- my canteen (mercifully full), a rucksack with some clothes and a compass, and this diary. Everyone hastily piled in to the dinghies and we paddled with all our strength, trying to put as much distance between ourselves and the descending ship. I prayed that the creatures would remain occupied with the main vessel, that we would escape unnoticed, but it was in vain. A dark cloud passed underneath the dinghy behind us, one overloaded with seven or eight of the ship’s crew. In an instant it was sucked down below the waves. The force of this caused a swell that nearly overturned our little vessel. I managed to hang on by slipping the shaft of the paddle into our dinghy’s handrail, but my companions, Hopkins and Thompson went overboard, never to surface. I resumed paddling furiously, now the furthest away from the sinking ship, as one by one the other dinghies were violently pulled down behind me.
I waited, expecting my turn to come at any moment, but the waters began to calm, and in the distance, the last vestiges of the Bright Aurora disappeared into the sea. Somehow, I must have gone unnoticed. I had escaped.
Though I retained my compass, I found its only real use to be in keeping me from inadvertently circling back in the direction of the sunken ship. I struck eastward with the current into the further unknown, eventually ceasing to paddle when my strength began to wane. I floated for several days, trying as best I could to conserve the little water I had. Nevertheless, my canteen was dry by the end of the second day. After that, I lost track of time and slept for long intervals. I guess it was the morning of the fourth day when I spotted this lonely island from afar.
The captain was right to put a bullet in his brain before they could take him. I am convinced that these creatures are somehow able to telepathically tap in to our minds. They can conjure our fantasies and temptations in the form of an illusion to be used as a lure, as a snapping turtle dances his tongue in the water like a worm to attract fish. Or the orchid mantis, an insect that mimics pink orchid blossoms to an uncanny exactitude, draws its nectar-seeking prey right into its lethal embrace.
They were broadcasting these visions directly into our brains through dreams or right in front of our waking eyes. They showed us their intentions, or more likely, a version they wanted us to see. I don’t know why they want us, but I’m not sure it is for simple sustenance, for why must they take us alive? They weren’t interested in the captain’s corpse. The things successfully lured in Olsen, but the bait wasn’t working quickly enough on the rest of us- it was simply driving us mad. Their attempts were imperfect and they grew impatient, so they attacked the ship to drag us down by force. Now I’m the only one left, and I have seen them- seen their true appearance- and therefore seen through their trick. I know that the sirens are only a screen, a tempting camouflage. Somehow, captain Hendricks knew as well. He knew the trap for what it was.
Later-
The creatures have tracked me here. I have now seen them in their veiled glory with my own eyes, appearing exactly as they did in my dreams- pale, nude, voluptuous, beckoning to me just beyond the breakers. They’ve begun singing as they did that night aboard the ship. I can’t believe I am writing this, but even though I know it is an illusion, I feel a very real desire to swim out to them. There is something in the song, a hypnotic power that draws me in despite every instinct of self-preservation screaming in protest.
Next morning-
Merciful gods! I must have passed out for a considerable amount of time, for I awoke to dawn blooming out over the blue horizon, and to my horror I found myself at the water’s edge. The song must have compelled me as I slept. They were waiting at the breakers, faces full of a lustful mirth. When I realized my peril, I hurriedly backed away. They became wrathful, and for a brief second the veneer of their appearance flickered like a loose lightbulb, revealing the true, hideous form beneath. I scurried back up the beach to a safe distance, whereupon they resumed singing.
I cannot think clearly. Whether it be from the sirens’ song or the effects of heat and dehydration, I’m not sure. I trust neither my eyes nor my mind. The most unhinged, aberrant thoughts come to me unbidden. I catch myself contemplating absurd scenarios. I must hasten my end somehow. I want nothing more than to go down to the shore and drink as much salt water as my stomach can hold, but I cannot bring myself to do it. I know they would snatch me in the attempt. The thought of being taken by those things to a prolonged, unknowable fate is too much to bear. I’ll die of thirst and exposure before I’ll give them any opportunity.
Later-
My time is almost up. It is becoming difficult to even summon the energy to write. What’s more, my pen is showing signs of running out of ink. I’m not sure what will dry up first- the ink in my pen or the strength in my body.
Around midmorning, I found the singing had ceased and the sirens nowhere in sight. Working up my courage, I cautiously crept down to the shore to drink the seawater and put an end to it. But before I reached the water’s edge they reappeared, ensnaring my gaze with their beautiful forms and angelic voices. I found myself frozen on the beach, just watching them out there in the rolling waves. The gorgeous nymphs smiled at me, beckoned to me, never pausing their singing. I stood rapt, forgetting my thirst, my wish to die. My eyes drank in their wondrous glory, and I wanted nothing more than to swim out to them, whatever the consequence.
It took all of my will to break away from the trance. The thought that I’m becoming increasingly susceptible to what my brain knows is an illusion terrifies me. I have even considered severing my Achilles tendons with a sharp rock to prevent what seems to be an inevitable act. But would that be enough? Would I simply crawl unconsciously to them in one of these hypnotic states?
The sirens continue their song. May the Gods have pity on me. May they let me die before I give in and allow the things to take me.
Still later-
A question runs unceasingly through my mind: what if Hendricks was mistaken, and Olsen in fact chose the wiser option? Perhaps Olsen, Hopkins, Pierce, Garrett- all of them are down there now, alive, experiencing untold pleasures whilst I die of thirst underneath this wretched sun. Down through rifts in the ocean floor wherein sprawl those immense weedy caverns of fantasy, my companions may have achieved the apotheosis of those auspicious dreams. What did Hendricks know? That old drunk. He was a drunk and a coward, hardly a sage beacon of wisdom. He never saw them with his own eyes, only ever heard their song. He never saw how beautiful they are, how innocuous.
What of those dark shapes that pulled my shipmates under? Perhaps they were merely benevolent servants of the sirens, sent to fetch us to their awaiting embraces. The more I watch those gentle figures splashing in the shallows, the more plausible this scenario seems. They wanted us alive, or not at all. Even Hendricks agreed on that.
Evening-
The sun sets once again over the endless sea, painting the waves a vivid red. A calmness has fallen on the water, and on my mind. It must be the serenity that comes when one has truly reached the end. The seductresses are out there of course, splashing in the shallows and calling to me, coaxing me, enticing me. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. A comforting death. Maybe I’d be a fool not to go to them. What other choice do I have? It is either certain death within the hour, or to see what awaits me down in that realm of nebulous wonder.
I’m not sure I have the strength to get up.
Gods forgive me.
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