To Sweetly Drown

Fiction by Crystal Schneider

Honorable Mention for College Fiction - 2019 Met Awards

Deeper and deeper he fell, yet it did not feel as though he was falling but instead drifting, drifting the way a golden leaf would glide on the fall winds. There is no control, no resistance he could muster. Like a leaf he was carried with no will of his own to stop this decent. Bubbles travel past him, up and up to the surface tickling and caressing his skin as they go, gathering like little moths to the light above that grew smaller and duller the longer he fell.

Was he dying?

Was this death?

He knows he should have been afraid; he knew as those precious bubbles escape between his lips that his time is dwindling. He had been a fighter at one point in his life, or so he would like to believe. He had been a man who survived twenty years in rat infested streets where a clever tongue and fast reflexes where more useful tools then pen and paper. He was a man who had survived seven years more on ships that rocked on tempest waves, with sails that bore black flags decorated with skulls and bones. He jumped onto decks burning with fire and fought men in red coats. He plundered riches meant for other men, men not capable or willing to fight to protect what was theirs.

He fought.

He survived.

Yet now when he should have fought his hardest, kicked and stretched out his arms to the surface that moved further and further way-- he could not. Not when, even in the distorted world that weakened his senses, he could hear the sweet humming melody that sunk its tune deep into his mind. He felt his body relax and betray him in its stupor.

The melody echoed in its distortion within the water and yet lost none of its honeysuckle like sound. With the wordless song came with movement in the darkened water, colors of hair he had only seen from the fairest of ladies drew his eyes away from the fading surface. From chestnut browns to marrown reds hair floated alop the heads of the creatures that bore human faces, each convaid lovely and fresh youthful smiles.

They circled around him, two then three, then four. Like dancers their fish like tails moved their bodies through the water in graceful motions alluring and deceptively sweet. Had they been sharks perhaps the fear of being eaten would have shaken him from his state yet, despite the predator eyes that watched him, inching closer and closer every time they made a circle around the descending man he did not feel his heart race nor his mind stirr from its clouded state.

It was not until he felt the pain burn in his chest and the bubbles that slipped from his lips stop did the graceful round movements of the creatures change. Jagged and fast in their motion they launched themselves towards him, teeth sharp and bard with claw like fingers steached. The closest with her onyx hair and stretched out her arm tearing through the water with no resistance slowing down her attack.

Yet the attack never met its attended target, instead the song’s melody fell away and so with it some of the fog that had covered his mind. Bursts of bubbles exploded around the area, blocking his view, yet he knew enough, even without his eyes, a fight was happening. From the scratches and hisses that echoed in their unhuman distorment the color of red burst and mixed with the curtain of bubbles. None of this mattered. Awakened from the spell, the man was no longer paid mind to the memory of the  melody and the lovely faces of women and their underworldly tails. None of that mattered to him. His own hands as if on instinct alone reached too his throat gripping at the burning crushing feeling that pulsed through his body.

He kicked at the waters, pushed at the invisible force that pulled him down. He was not going to die, he would fight. Posiden could have his graveyard of ships and other sailors but the ill tempered god of waves would not have him.

Yet the underwater world was deep and he had sunk so far into its embrace the will to fight dwindled.

A tug came to his leg and downward, this time with measured force, he was pulled away from the surface. Golden curls drifted before his face while his eyes fell on the face of the blue eyed woman, with her shimmering scales of blue and green that lined her jaw and cheeks, deep cuts of fresh wounds still bright red and bleeding. For a moment, in the hypnotic sight of the creature, the pain in his chest seemed to dull yet with it his vision began to tunnel blocking out the world around the femanin creature in a dark haze. It was only when the softness of lips touched his own did he feel his lungs expand and fill with the precious air that he had thought only the surface above the water could offer.

Latching onto the creature, to the woman, he took in all the air she offered him. When their lips finally broke so too did the water from around his head. Fresh air and heat from the sun's light fell on his drenched head while he took in as much air as his burning lungs would allow.

“Man overboard!” the call of a stranger fell through his ears ringing out over the sound of the turning waves. In a dull haze the man thought not about those on the ship that pulled him from the ocean's embrace nor gave any care to the blanket that was set on his shoulder nor did he pay any attention to the questions that were hurled at him from the various old sea men. His attention and his mind was lost, however, lost in the dark ways of the ocean and its melody.

About the Author

I am a single mother going to school at Cerro Coso Community college in Lake Isabella. I thoroughly enjoy writing and the creative process that goes into it. Fantasy is one of my favorite genres.