Wonderland
I'm depressed by my beirsltutchness and decided to post a real bit of ficton here so as to make up for the horridness of that last one. (this is not slash it is in fact a story)
Wonderland
He opened the door into the abyss that was his mind. It encompassed him like a cloak, comforting him from his troubles, from his cold pitiless body that sank in the water of the turbulent sea. He was free of the thoughts and inhibitions that normally dragged him in a whirlwind of emotions, feelings, opinions, unvoiced and unused. He had found a trap door in his head; it enabled him to escape his rampaging thoughts, the voices that echoed between his ears. They had grown so much in number and volume recently impeding his abilities, his will to concentrate on the things that were important or even the situations going on around him.
He had always seen the world through a screen of emotion, with a muffled sense of unreality, like blinders on a horse, or through the eyes of a person with out their glasses on. Lines were blurred to him. Situations distorted through his inability to control his violent surges. His emotions were passionate, fluctuating from happy to sad in less than a misconstrued word. He drank like a fish in order to keep afloat, to moderate the swings. Being out of control was better than realizing that you weren’t.
The storm had come quickly to the little boat. One moment it had been a dark spot on the horizon the next moment 20 foot waves were crashing on the deck. The others had rushed for life jackets and safety equipment. He was content to let the waves consume him, to indulge the sea in its unhappiness just as he indulged in his. He glared gloomily at the raging sea, at his fate, as the mast came down to meet him, a push into the sea. He didn’t struggle like the others thrown from their floating perches; he allowed the ocean to take him in, a sacrifice to ease its heaving pain of anguish, he understood.
As he sank through the water the sea raged on above him becoming calmer as he drifted downward. Water-logged clothing and boots dragged him downward. He didn’t struggle. His eyes took on new sights; clarity spread through and surrounded him, the ocean was appeased. His eyes were open and there was nothing to force him back out of the trapdoor through which he had fallen. He’d fallen out of his world and into another. It was a peaceful place.
He saw the sunlight drifting through the column of the sea, catching krill unaware, glinting off drifting tidbits and silvery fish. Fish that had scattered from below him as his body lazily glided to the seabed. The world was so beautiful at that moment: the darting of the quicksilver fish, the gentle motion of falling, people in the distance struggling to survive in the upper reaches flailing in futile attempts to stay afloat, fish flopping in nets gasping for breath, the half-masted ship diving into the ocean. He saw there was a storm above him just as there had been a thundercloud in his brain; they were gone now he had found the trapdoor and had fallen through to wonderland.