‹ Prequel: Suffocating
Status: One-shot.
Drowning
Drowning
He thrashed about in the tentacles of whatever manner of sea creature constricted him, pulling him farther and farther down into the darkness of the ocean. The crushing force of gallons and gallons of water coupled with the crushing force of the slimy appendages squeezing him to death was horrendous. He let out a scream, but no sound came out. Bubbles escaped from his lips as he wriggled, shouting wordlessly to the light that he could barely see through the water between he and the open air.
Down, down, down, he was dragged.
A diver swam by, in scuba gear and with an air tank, ogling him like some sort of three headed beast.
“Help me!” he wanted to shout, he tried to call, but bubbles were all that escaped once more, and water poured into his mouth, down his throat, into his lungs. The diver just floated there, watching as if it was some television program and he didn’t need to go find help or even try to help the drowning boy himself. And then the man swam away, taking his own time, but not to the top. He swam farther out to sea, and the drowning boy’s eyes followed him until he was long out of sight.
Desperation turned to despair, and the boy’s struggles weakened. The tentacles only seemed to squeeze tighter, and he once more let out an agonized scream, drawing more salty liquid into his already full lungs. But if his lungs were full, why was he still drowning? Why was he still painfully aware of his dilemma?
He squeezed his eyes closed tightly, and when he opened them, he was shocked to find that he was looking out through a glass pane at a group of tourists, raising their cameras and taking pictures. He tried once more to call out, to no avail. None of them seemed to care that there was a teenage boy drowning in the aquarium tank, that he was likely to be squeezed to death by whatever creature held him. How could the world be so cruel, he thought disgustedly, to take pictures of him as he struggled weakly, in vain, against the thing he was sure would kill him?
A tentacle snaked around his neck, and his thrashing renewed its vigor.
How did he get here?
What had he done to deserve such a death?
He didn’t know, nor did he care. He just simply wished it would all end, even though he should still have had years ahead of him. If this pain was what he had to endure, he just wanted it to end. The feeling of drowning was horrible, the most horrifying thing he had ever felt, and he wanted it over. He pleaded to God, or whoever might have been watching over him, to end it all.
Why couldn’t he just die and get it all over with?
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was being pulled, once more, into the deep abyss of the ocean. In his death, he must be hallucinating. The hours that seemed to have passed must have only been minutes, and the aquarium must have been a fleeting dream. This was where he was to die, halfway to the bottom of the ocean in the multiple arms of some sort of creature.
Once more, he closed his eyes and waited for the end to come.
Slowly, slowly, the blackness consumed him.
He jerked awake with a yelp, legs tangled in his sheets and sweat streaking his body, but he was alive.
Down, down, down, he was dragged.
A diver swam by, in scuba gear and with an air tank, ogling him like some sort of three headed beast.
“Help me!” he wanted to shout, he tried to call, but bubbles were all that escaped once more, and water poured into his mouth, down his throat, into his lungs. The diver just floated there, watching as if it was some television program and he didn’t need to go find help or even try to help the drowning boy himself. And then the man swam away, taking his own time, but not to the top. He swam farther out to sea, and the drowning boy’s eyes followed him until he was long out of sight.
Desperation turned to despair, and the boy’s struggles weakened. The tentacles only seemed to squeeze tighter, and he once more let out an agonized scream, drawing more salty liquid into his already full lungs. But if his lungs were full, why was he still drowning? Why was he still painfully aware of his dilemma?
He squeezed his eyes closed tightly, and when he opened them, he was shocked to find that he was looking out through a glass pane at a group of tourists, raising their cameras and taking pictures. He tried once more to call out, to no avail. None of them seemed to care that there was a teenage boy drowning in the aquarium tank, that he was likely to be squeezed to death by whatever creature held him. How could the world be so cruel, he thought disgustedly, to take pictures of him as he struggled weakly, in vain, against the thing he was sure would kill him?
A tentacle snaked around his neck, and his thrashing renewed its vigor.
How did he get here?
What had he done to deserve such a death?
He didn’t know, nor did he care. He just simply wished it would all end, even though he should still have had years ahead of him. If this pain was what he had to endure, he just wanted it to end. The feeling of drowning was horrible, the most horrifying thing he had ever felt, and he wanted it over. He pleaded to God, or whoever might have been watching over him, to end it all.
Why couldn’t he just die and get it all over with?
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was being pulled, once more, into the deep abyss of the ocean. In his death, he must be hallucinating. The hours that seemed to have passed must have only been minutes, and the aquarium must have been a fleeting dream. This was where he was to die, halfway to the bottom of the ocean in the multiple arms of some sort of creature.
Once more, he closed his eyes and waited for the end to come.
Slowly, slowly, the blackness consumed him.
He jerked awake with a yelp, legs tangled in his sheets and sweat streaking his body, but he was alive.
♠ ♠ ♠
Eh, bored. Thought I'd do another one in this dream/line of consciousness series. This makes numero dos! Number two.595 words.
These two stories make me seem really demented! haha (this one and Suffocating).
Thanks for reading.
<333 Amanda