The first is thrown overboard, thrashing and writhing. Water fills the lungs and then they are drowning drowning can't breathe must breathe can't can't drowning still—

Air. Air air air. The head has come up for air, hacking and vomiting out the sea like a mad birthing of the world. The legs flail without reason, some sort of primal instinct to survive if nothing else, working and pumping forever if need be. The head sees gray in the distance, not the suffocating ocean but something solid and real and [i]real[/i] and full of—

Or maybe the water has gotten to the head already. Maybe the head is too far gone and all it's seeing is a final, desperate attempt at hope and life. The brain disagrees with the heart that claims to know better, to cling at miracles. A mirage. Nothing more but—

The heart does not give up like the brain, does not resign itself to the fate of the body or head or lungs. Land [i]is[/i] near, but then another body and another and another plunge into the frightening depths of salt, throwing the brain into a frenzy and the stomach into contractions. Cold exhale and the lungs scream for—

The head is getting cold and the lungs are crying out but the heart must continue its manic quest towards the mass of gray. The different gray. Limbs diligently forward, galloping their way to freedom's shore. The ears quiver and shrink. Voice boxes lead an assault, screeching and crying into the darkened leagues—

Now all of the bodies are far away. The brain is no longer cowering and despondent, but motivating the heart. Pushing. Cheering. Encouraging the heart to have faith, must have faith, to go on, not too much longer now, it's getting closer and salvation is nigh for the body. The heart is cool and doubts the brain. Questions from the heart, soon wrested—

The brain can't answer, can only blush and admit its wrongdoing. Focus. Focus. The neck has cramped. Focus. The eyes have lidded. Bobbing up nameless and full of quivering guilt—

But the brain keeps pushing and willing the heart and then liberty is at hand. The body throws itself forward, stands on trembling legs, and surrenders its arms to the miserable, foul heavens before collapsing onto the soft ground. Water, cruel and unwilling mistress that it is, charges in blind fury, but all is beautiful and right to the heart and brain. Until, in bloom, lurks the telltale shadow of the body's former—



[i]"In and of you, all around you, without prior knowledge or consent. I am you.

"I am you, but you are not me. You mean nothing. I give you purpose, meaning. Life.

"I am your best friend. Your mortal enemy. Your lover. Your mother. Daughter, son, husband, brother, sister, wife. Aunts and uncles, cousins and parents, strangers in the street. Father.

"You say I am impossible, that I am but one. That is a lie. I am many. You are one. You are one from me, and I am many. 

"You see me without believing. It is understandable. You are not the first, nor will you be the last. You simply are.

"Scream, while you can. Disbelieve, if you must. But do not ignore me. Do not overstep my rule, or you will fall into desolation. Let not your eyes deceive you of this.

"Watch me change. Watch and bow on trembling legs as you see me for what I am. You do not have much time before we embark."[/i]



Breathe. Heart is corpse, body is convulsed. Breathe. Pain is slender and strength. Breathe. Lungs skewered, iron innards of release. Breathe. Graveyards are for the living. Breathe. Fight or fight, there is no running anymore. Br—