Lost at Sea

Jasper’s head was spinning.

When he’d awoken, he was staring at hole in a rock ceiling, the sun peeking through tentatively. Shyly, almost. As if it wasn’t sure he’d still welcome its arrival. The light was absolutely welcome, but torturous. He accepted the warmth into his very bones, which still felt the chill of the Atlantic ocean. His eyes, however, were not fond of the overwhelming brightness of it all glaring straight into his face.

He struggled into a sitting position, but it hurt way more than it should have. Only then did he realize he was wrapped up tightly in-- was this seaweed?

All at once, his memories came flooding back. The arrogance of that damned Captain Gordon, the shockingly sudden storm, the way the air was charged with intense electricity. The unnatural, thick darkness that shrouded the ship in such a way that had had him convinced that he wouldn’t make out of there alive. The feeling of being dragged under by half of that ship, and his Eleanor’s face appearing before him in his dying moments.

He didn’t realize he wanted to stand until he was already doing it. His oxygen-starved brain had even been able to make him feel her fingers against his face. He traced the path she’d made with his own hand, trying-- and failing-- to recreate the feeling it had given him. The electricity that had danced across his skin was not something he’d thought he’d ever feel again. Damn that woman. How was she able to affect him like this from the grave?

Despite how disoriented he felt, Jasper still heard the water move as something came up for air. He turned as quickly as he dared, but the only sign that something had been there was a flash of jade deep in the bottom of the pool. It was wavy and distorted by the water, but it could have been a stone of some sort. He couldn’t help but think of his wife, though. Her eyes had been almost the exact same glittering shade.

His very soul ached. Someone had saved him, that much was obvious, and he wasn’t so sure he appreciated it. Even though he felt like he’d just lost Eleanor all over again, he forced himself to take in his surrounding through his grief.

The rock around him curved unbroken into a dome-like shape, leaving a single hole at the very top. He currently stood on a thin ribbon of pure white sand that was maybe six or seven feet wide in the deepest part of the crescent. At first glance, the water didn’t seem to be too deep. Upon closer examination, he realized that he was very wrong. A large great white could probably comfortably swim in circles down there. There wasn’t much of a slope on the sand so much as a drop off.

Who had brought him here? Who had wrapped his wounds? He had no memory of anything passed hallucinating Eleanor.

As he stood there, facing the water, his mind began to wonder towards her again. He always found that standing on solid ground made her memory come up more often, much to his dismay. Her auburn hair glinted in his mind’s eye, reminding him of when they were younger and he would chase her through her parent’s land. The grass was higher than both of their heads, but as long as he could find her hair that glinted like fire in the sunlight, he would never lose her.

But he did, in fact, lose her. As much as he hated to admit it, Eleanor was gone and she was never going to come back. Pain clenched his heart tightly. To his surprise, a tear escaped his eye. He dabbed at it in shock; he hadn’t cried in many years.

He sat there long after his stomach started to growl, watching a trapped tuna spin in circles. It’s silver scales glinted tauntingly, but he knew a fish that large was not something that he could catch with his bare hands. So, there he sat. He wondered if death would be that bad. Couldn’t he just flop over and lay there? If he refused to eat, to drink, it wouldn’t take long. Especially not with the condition his body was in.

He could see Eleanor again.

Movement at the bottom of the pool. The fish had darted to the other side, as if trying to avoid whatever was coming in. A glint of red, then the same jade he’d seen earlier. Without realizing it, he scrambled to his feet and darted behind a large chunk of rock that had fallen from the walls. There was barely enough room for him, and he couldn’t contort his wounded body much, but he managed to duck out of sight. He instinctively knew that whatever had come in was not going to be a friend.

There was no sound. Nothing broke the surface of the water. Nothing moved in the slightest. However, he could tell it had not left. The heavy cloud that hung around its being like an aura was unmistakable. This was something that could and probably would hurt him. So, with adrenaline rushing through his veins, he held still.

Something took in a deep breath. It sounded vaguely... human. He held his own breath, waiting to see if he could hear it again. Rhythmically, someone was definitely breathing. In, out, in, out. He counted them like a lifeline. There were no stutters or breaks in the cadence. It was steady, if not a little bit more shallow than his own intakes. It was patiently waiting for him to show himself.

Over my dead body, he thought to himself. He was not about to be a meal to a mystery creature.

Jasper wasn’t exactly sure when the creature had left. One minute its breath was echoing against the walls and the next thing he knew, he was alone in the silence yet again. Was it a trick, or had it actually left him unharmed?

A little shaken, he stood from his hiding place. He leaned heavily against the rock, the only thing holding him up at the moment. His side was on fire; he was certain that he had torn the wound open again.

Despite the pain, Jasper could feel something else. Hunger was still gnawing incessantly at his stomach. Exasperated, he collapsed in a heap against the sand. Irritation was beginning to set in; at the sun, the untouchable fish, whatever was stalking him. Why was this happening to him? Hadn’t he suffered enough already?

He slumped to the sand, defeated. As he did, he realized he was being watched. A dark shape sort of like a head was barely breaching the waterline, and glowing jade eyes stared at him intently. Eyes that he recognized. Eyes that he’d once loved.

“You’re not real,” he muttered, then watched as her long nose emerged, the planes of her cheeks dusted with sweet freckles, then her cupid’s bow pink lips. Her small chin dimple that was never visible unless she was pursing her lips.

“Who are you?” She asked, but her voice and words were all wrong. Where it had once been so sweet and clear, calling his name out from across a room and filled with laughter, it was now raspy. As if it hurt her to talk.

“I am nobody,” he sighed, closing his eyes. He could almost hear her brow furrowing. He imagined it then, that wrinkle that would appear between them. Her frustration with him and his cryptic remarks were always amusing.

“I’m serious,” she growled. There was a definite difference there, too; as if there was an actual threat behind it instead of her usual playfulness. He opened his eyes wearily and studied his hallucination. His mind was playing dark tricks, indeed. Her hair was tangled with seaweed and she had a barnacle growing just below her left collarbone. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, with sharper features and sallow cheeks. There was no life behind her eyes.

“What happened to you?” He choked out without thinking about it. Her eyes tightened, attributing to the sickly look about her.

“I was thrown overboard,” she said flatly. He flinched and forced himself into a sitting position.

“I’m so sorry, Eleanor,” he whispered. He felt as though someone had ripped his heart out and lit it on fire in front of him.

“Sorry?” She sputtered. “Sorry doesn’t fix what was done to me. What it turned me into. What it made me do.”

“What?” He asked incredulously. “What have you done, Eleanor?”

“I’ve killed more people than you’ve ever met,” she whispered and slipped beneath the surface to leave him in the silence yet again.