Benefactio
Timed writing challenge for worldofscribble
Challenge A: Write for sixty minutes, including the phrase "Are we just sinking in an ocean of faces" somewhere in your piece.
I had just turned fifteen on the day I almost drowned.
As my science teacher might have pointed out, it was a cause and effect thing. I heard my parents start arguing, but the further out I swam, the less I could hear their hurtful words. The ocean's noises were all around me, a soothing counterpoint to the insults being hurled back and forth behind me.
"I don't want a party this year," I had told them, "just a day spent together with both of you."
I suppose I should've specified the no fighting clause in my agreement with them, but it had seemed implicit to me. Not that it would've mattered anyway.
Floating on my back, a trick I had only mastered a few weeks ago, I gazed up at the sky above me through slitted eyelids. The weather was absolutely perfect, a balance of gloriously bright sun and cloudless skies, with temperatures that were pleasantly warm, instead of the oppressive heat of the summer to come. The waves around me were gentle as well, a constant ebb and flow which, along with my persistent kicks, carried me inexorably outward.
There was something in the sky above me, a flash of movement, a flurry of… What? Was it a bird? Flipping upright, slowly treading water with one arm, I shaded my eyes, and stared upward. Yes, it was a bird, a bird with a brilliant white body and black tail. The contrast made me grin. It seemed to be circling me, arcing around my position as though there was something of interest it wanted to observe.
"The watcher," a male voice said from behind me.
I whirled, or tried to anyway, while still treading water. The man I saw was, different. He had a mane of flowing blond hair which seemed to shroud his body from my view, which was just as well, since he didn't appear to be wearing any clothes. My eyes tracked down, and down, and then jerked guiltily away before seeing anything.
"She watches because she knows you have swum out too far," he said, mischief, and something far colder, dancing in his blue eyes. "How do you intend to get back?"
I scanned the skyline around me, and realized with some shock that not only was the shore now invisible, but also that I had no clear sense of which direction I should start swimming in order to reach it. Of course, even if I guessed correctly my only reward would be hearing those angry voices again.
"Perhaps," I said, lying back in the water to resume floating and waving at the bird above me, "she'll fly me back if I ask nicely."
A solitary white feather floated down through the warm summer air, and landed in my outstretched hand.
He laughed, his amusement reminding me of the sound of surf on the shoreline I had lost. "Oh, she's a great talker, that one, but I've never seen her take an active hand."
"And you?" I inquired, giving him my very best coy look.
His arms were around me then, and we began slowly sinking beneath the ocean's undulating surface. "We shall see," he murmured.
Although I knew instinctively that this was no guaranty of safety, I remained unafraid. I felt certain that he would show me wonders I had only dreamed of before.
When the cool waters closed over my head, I held my breath, but his fingers encircling my ribs began to tickle, and I breathed in, and in, and in.
"You are in my world now," he told me, "and until we return to the surface, you will be safe."
"And," I asked, trying to sound as though I didn't care, "will we ever return to the surface?"
Laughter surrounded us again. "What an impolite guest you are," he chided, his chuckles rumbling along my back, "barely have you stepped across the threshold into my realm, and already you would leave?" Spinning me from him with a motion I at first interpreted as an angry rejection, he raised both hands before him, and made a sweeping gesture.
Around us, the sparkling depths shimmered even more brightly, individual drops swelling until they resolved into the faces of my life's friends, family, and acquaintances. As the faces circled, revolving in and out of my vision, we plunged deeper, the light above growing progressively fainter with each passing second.
"Tell me," he urged, with a voice reminiscent of sea water rushing through rocks on a far away beach, "are their any faces here that you could not live without?"
"Sinking," I whispered, finally afraid, "are we just sinking in an ocean of faces?" I drew in a deep breath, relieved that I could still do that much, at least. "I can't leave them all."
"You were so unhappy," he whispered, those strong arms surrounding me again. "Would it not be better if you simply stayed here with me?"
I could stay, I realized, live as a guest in this underwater world of enumerable wonders I hadn't even seen as yet. It was in my power to accept his offer, but if I did, I felt certain I would never again taste air or feel warm sunlight on my face.
There was a prickle, the texture of something rough in my right palm, and opening my hand, I saw, in the dim rays of fading light from above, a white feather. The known, and the unknown. Perhaps the watcher sometimes took an active hand after all?
"I choose my life," I said, "my life in the world above."
Author's Note: For anyone who's interested, this is the song that was my inspiration for this piece.
Dan
Challenge A: Write for sixty minutes, including the phrase "Are we just sinking in an ocean of faces" somewhere in your piece.
I had just turned fifteen on the day I almost drowned.
As my science teacher might have pointed out, it was a cause and effect thing. I heard my parents start arguing, but the further out I swam, the less I could hear their hurtful words. The ocean's noises were all around me, a soothing counterpoint to the insults being hurled back and forth behind me.
"I don't want a party this year," I had told them, "just a day spent together with both of you."
I suppose I should've specified the no fighting clause in my agreement with them, but it had seemed implicit to me. Not that it would've mattered anyway.
Floating on my back, a trick I had only mastered a few weeks ago, I gazed up at the sky above me through slitted eyelids. The weather was absolutely perfect, a balance of gloriously bright sun and cloudless skies, with temperatures that were pleasantly warm, instead of the oppressive heat of the summer to come. The waves around me were gentle as well, a constant ebb and flow which, along with my persistent kicks, carried me inexorably outward.
There was something in the sky above me, a flash of movement, a flurry of… What? Was it a bird? Flipping upright, slowly treading water with one arm, I shaded my eyes, and stared upward. Yes, it was a bird, a bird with a brilliant white body and black tail. The contrast made me grin. It seemed to be circling me, arcing around my position as though there was something of interest it wanted to observe.
"The watcher," a male voice said from behind me.
I whirled, or tried to anyway, while still treading water. The man I saw was, different. He had a mane of flowing blond hair which seemed to shroud his body from my view, which was just as well, since he didn't appear to be wearing any clothes. My eyes tracked down, and down, and then jerked guiltily away before seeing anything.
"She watches because she knows you have swum out too far," he said, mischief, and something far colder, dancing in his blue eyes. "How do you intend to get back?"
I scanned the skyline around me, and realized with some shock that not only was the shore now invisible, but also that I had no clear sense of which direction I should start swimming in order to reach it. Of course, even if I guessed correctly my only reward would be hearing those angry voices again.
"Perhaps," I said, lying back in the water to resume floating and waving at the bird above me, "she'll fly me back if I ask nicely."
A solitary white feather floated down through the warm summer air, and landed in my outstretched hand.
He laughed, his amusement reminding me of the sound of surf on the shoreline I had lost. "Oh, she's a great talker, that one, but I've never seen her take an active hand."
"And you?" I inquired, giving him my very best coy look.
His arms were around me then, and we began slowly sinking beneath the ocean's undulating surface. "We shall see," he murmured.
Although I knew instinctively that this was no guaranty of safety, I remained unafraid. I felt certain that he would show me wonders I had only dreamed of before.
When the cool waters closed over my head, I held my breath, but his fingers encircling my ribs began to tickle, and I breathed in, and in, and in.
"You are in my world now," he told me, "and until we return to the surface, you will be safe."
"And," I asked, trying to sound as though I didn't care, "will we ever return to the surface?"
Laughter surrounded us again. "What an impolite guest you are," he chided, his chuckles rumbling along my back, "barely have you stepped across the threshold into my realm, and already you would leave?" Spinning me from him with a motion I at first interpreted as an angry rejection, he raised both hands before him, and made a sweeping gesture.
Around us, the sparkling depths shimmered even more brightly, individual drops swelling until they resolved into the faces of my life's friends, family, and acquaintances. As the faces circled, revolving in and out of my vision, we plunged deeper, the light above growing progressively fainter with each passing second.
"Tell me," he urged, with a voice reminiscent of sea water rushing through rocks on a far away beach, "are their any faces here that you could not live without?"
"Sinking," I whispered, finally afraid, "are we just sinking in an ocean of faces?" I drew in a deep breath, relieved that I could still do that much, at least. "I can't leave them all."
"You were so unhappy," he whispered, those strong arms surrounding me again. "Would it not be better if you simply stayed here with me?"
I could stay, I realized, live as a guest in this underwater world of enumerable wonders I hadn't even seen as yet. It was in my power to accept his offer, but if I did, I felt certain I would never again taste air or feel warm sunlight on my face.
There was a prickle, the texture of something rough in my right palm, and opening my hand, I saw, in the dim rays of fading light from above, a white feather. The known, and the unknown. Perhaps the watcher sometimes took an active hand after all?
"I choose my life," I said, "my life in the world above."
Author's Note: For anyone who's interested, this is the song that was my inspiration for this piece.
Click to viewDan