Sea

I wish that this had come out of my head. My friend Andy was talking to me last week about a story idea. He didn't know how to make it work, but it sounded so damned interesting that I had to take a stab. This isn't set in my universe like the rest of the stories here, but I hope to be able to explore it one day.

I feel like it could be something great. Damn your inspiration, Andy!

Men feared the sea. It was said to be brutal and cruel, tempestuous at the best of times and wrathful at the worst. Man could not read the sea's moods, and they always reviled that which was unknown. Adair had no such problem. He could see a squall coming a hundred miles away and knew when the water would be soft and sweet. Adair would watch the dolphins play or the sharks hunt, and took equal pleasure in both. He loved the sea.

It was probably why he lived underneath it. Adair’s home was small, little more than a shanty at the bottom of the sea, but he wanted for nothing. When he needed food, he would enter his seaweed garden. When he craved meat, he would hunt amongst the coral. The casual observer would note that there was only one exception to his bliss, an unavoidable absence in so remote a place: The company of others. Of course, they could never understand his little whispers to the emptiness, his sudden jokes when sitting alone, the way that he smiled so warmly at the water around him. It seemed that he was half-mad from loneliness, but how could anyone understand the truth?

The sea itself was alive, not in the sense that nature lives, composed of animals and plants, but rather that the sea was a force of constantly shifting will. Every drop of water contained a life, every bead of moisture held a soul. When a man’s eyes closed on the earth above, another drop was added to the ocean below. It was not the end of life but merely the continuation of it, no matter how unfamiliar the location might be. To not fear death was a lesson that few men ever seemed to grasp, but could they be blamed? Not even the gods themselves could overcome their preoccupation with the end, in equal measures dreading and lamenting its approach. It was why the gods could have no rivals, no matter how innocuous they might be.

It was why men died as a matter of course. They could build, and they could write, but it was their ability to dream that most frightened the heavenly host. Mankind’s ambitions grew ever larger even as the world grew more hostile, the desire for heaven increased as men walked through hell. Civilizations rose, technology expanded, and man slowly began to replace fickle gods. Adair understood that their time had come and gone, that creator would have to bend to creation sometime. He was willing to pass away as so many men had before him.

The others were not so accepting. Waves rocked and water shook as lightning flashed across the surface. A storm brewed on the horizon, bringing a million sad souls with it. The first drops whimpered into the water, but those that followed howled at their fate. The sea frothed with fear and lashed out at the sky, guided by the last moments of men. With each drop the water grew wilder, with each drop Adair’s heart grew heavier. Death was a natural part of life, but there was nothing natural about that slaughter.

Men feared the sea because it was unknown. Adair feared the gods because he knew them. Their hearts were jealous, hard and cruel, and not even a million lives would stop their march. Sorrow and anguish filled the water, and haunted his thoughts. Adair loved the sea.

It was for that reason he would have to leave it.