Submerged

Down.

Down.

Down.

Into the abyss.

The billows of the sea and the downward current carry the sadness of all the townsfolk off the coast. 

A rickety ship with a fiery red-haired and grinning pirate’s apprentice. The wife of a rich businessman who wanted nothing to do with her, except her looks, and her father’s wealth. A sudden wave forced her overboard, craving more of her misery. Falling, down, down, swallowed. Her red hair enveloped her scarred and once-cheerful face. Saoirse, too cocky. 

A middle-aged fisherman. His soft and worn face was shaped as if molten kindness took form in a sun-crinkled visage. The welts of his shoes were dyed with the eccentric beets grown in his seaside garden, large, spherical tomatoes blooming like bloody roses, and pumpkin vines swirling on the trellis, hefty amounts scattering the ground. “Mother!” He cries. Dead. Deceased. Sitting on the pier, the ocean engulfed him. Falling, down, down, swallowed. His fishhook stood on the pier forlorn and desolate, without an owner. Philip, too kind.

A young orphan. She had lost herself. As she was about to jump off the bridge into the deep and taunting ocean, she remembered. Don’t jump. “Or do,” a faint voice challenged, tickling the back of her mind. A gigantuan shark erupted from the surface and took her under, as she writhed in his brutish jaws. Falling, down, down, swallowed. Her skinny and miniature shadow vanished from the rusty and isolated bridge. Daenerys, evaporated soul.

Submerged, immersed with sadness, filling the globe and encircling continents. The sea and its sorrow wanted more to fuel and feed itself, though it was nothing close to deprived of sadness. 

No wonder the ocean is so blue.