Monday 24 January 2011

Folly laid bare

I'm in a dark place. Storm clouds have rolled in to block out the sunlight, leaving the world tinged in that sickly yellow light that precedes a thunderstorm. Gulls circle overhead, and beneath me the waters swirl in a vortex that threatens to suck me deep into the maelstrom, where I would surely drown.

Suddenly, my folly laid bare, I realise the ocean despises me and will not tolerate me to stay in its demesne. The strong might be allowed to swim its waters, but the weak and ill are fools to believe the sea to be as supportive as it appears. You might paddle in the shallow bay awhile, rising with the gentle swell, but tarry too long and the sea will test you, falter and the riptide is merciless.

I had been so sad and lonely on the beach, watching my friends swimming back and forth, slowly recovering from the grievous injury that had washed me ashore. Fear and longing held me immobile for the longest time.

'Come in, you can do it,' urged the swimmers. So I dove into the water, but surfaced quickly, shocked by the strength sapping cold. Gasping for air, water found my lungs. Spluttering and coughing, I realised too late how weak and unprepared I was. With a feeling of foreboding, I was drawn further from shore by the gruff exhortations of the other swimmers. 'Come on, catch up, you've fallen behind.'

I've lost sight of the others now. Irked at my slowness they left me to fend for myself. I'm alone in the sea, with the storm crackling above, and the current dragging me down.

There are three choices before me: try to catch up with the other swimmers; let the ocean drag me to my doom; or somehow find a way back to shore.

I don't know what to do, but whilst I weigh my options beneath the jaundiced storm clouds the sea, gleaming golden, sucks the life from me.

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