Those with the Fear of Drowning

You see, I have these issues.

I know. I know we’ve been working hard.

Or well, I’ve been talking and then forgetting what I’ve said right after and you’ve been li… you have been listening, right?

Because, this is about that thing I told you.

Yeah… please keep your voice down. That thing.

Okay, good, good. We’re on the same page. Where else could we be?

Anyway, back to… back to that.

My fear of drowning.

I don’t think it’s so relevant anymore. No. Not because I’m okay now. Can you stop trying with the antidote and just enjoy the poison, for once?

Drowning, I was talking about drowning…

When my eyes are closed, I’m already there. Something has wrapped itself around me and my blood is freezing, its rivers twisting around my body and causing all my veins to become ice.

Yeah, I’m aware it’s December and cold, but look at me, so wrapped up. I should be warm.

But, the snow has settled inside and a ghost is screaming in its storm as though it is the one trapped with me and not I with it!

Perhaps it is not on the inside at all, perhaps its fingers sink through my flesh and wrap around my bones. A reminder of what I will one day be. Buried beneath earth but above another who once breathed as I do.

Cold.

A bit morbid! Sorry… it’s just, it’s just such a funny thing.

I spend so much time trembling yet I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

Something… is really wrong.

I mean obviously things aren’t quite right or you wouldn’t be here and we wouldn’t be having this conversation, but…

Have you ever slept in a bed of lies?

Had a liar stroke your skin before they flay it with a tongue that would sooner be cut out than spill the truth.  And why spill the truth when your blood is so much more precious?

I believe if it could be a gemstone it would be the most coveted. Given on every engagement ring and set into all wedding bands. Would it not be sweeter to be betrayed by the one whose life you bore on your finger? For it is impossible to truly wear ones heart on a sleeve.

I ramble all the time. And I never seem to make much sense!

I don’t lose sight of my destination. There is just a constant fog in this place. And it is beautiful when it allows me to sit still and admire as it rises above the frost covered riverbanks and settles about church spires.

But, when I need to move on it conceals the path and petals of flowers close upon my approach. As though night… is stalking me.

But, I can see a light in the distance! And I believe it to be the sun, but then it dances in such a way I also believe it to be no more than a mischievous creature. A sprite with its lantern, luring me to a swamp where I will be stuck further still.

I speak of destinations as though I know how this story ends, but the chapters are pages strewn across the floor, that I suppose you are trying to piece together.

What an impossible task you have before you…

Yes, I said there was a church in that place. I’m not religious, but we all need a place of sanctuary and when the moon is all that lights the forest, even though it is of my own creation, I see shadows that even the wolves can’t protect me from.

But, if I can find my way to the sleeping stain glass windows and my hands are steady enough to bring thunder to the doors, I am granted entry.

No, no one else is inside. It is a sanctuary after all.

Ah, I thought you might ask about the rivers…

Only at my bravest do I look into their waters. I know how deceptively they can turn. Take their serenity from my view and in the place of aquatic weeds and childhood stepping stones come the faces of the lost.

I don’t know why they come to me in that place. Isn’t water said to hold the future?

They look through me and the fog and they look for the warmth of the sun as if it’s all they’ll ever seek! A desire for warmth. The weeds their shackles and stones their weights. They placed them there!

I know this because while I slept beside haunted waters in whispers they warned me.

But when I am awake, I have little choice, all I can do is stare into their eyes or their deathbed and I choose their eyes because the river is all too welcoming.

I wonder, if when Robert Frost said the woods are lovely, dark and deep, he thought of them as I do the river.

But we all have promises to keep, do we not?

Sorry, I feel I have become distracted again!

Have I told you… have I told you of those with the fear of drowning?

 

 

If you haven’t heard it yet, you can find the audio of this here!

 

This was written to be spoken so I’m sorry if it reads a little rough around the edges.

Thank you for reading!

20 thoughts on “Those with the Fear of Drowning”

    1. Aha, it was written in a bit of a mad haze. I’ll be writing a post discussing this soon! I think it might change some people’s opinion of it which I’m a little worried about, but we’ll see!

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Very interesting… your smart approach, and how you develop slowly, but quite dramatically, the point of interest of this short story. …Fear of Death. That’s the key, the river, icy waters, fog, weeds, etc. those factors precipitate the final, major fear…Death!
    I loved it Arbie, your story drags the reader to the depths of cold dark solitude. Kudos 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ding, ding, ding! Bingo! I’ll be writing another post soon that talks about some of the images and whatnot that are in here. I think it will shed some more light on it but death is a creeping theme through it, yes! I’m so glad you liked it. Thank you. 💜💐

      Liked by 1 person

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