Ocean Dweller

As I dance between the whirlpools and eddies where the stream meets the ocean, the soft white light from above glimmers off my scales. The currents are strong and test my strength, but I barely pay them any mind. At last, the day wears on and I rest in one of the calmer sides of the channel. Up above, I see another swimmer tumble head over heels down the stream towards me. He finally settles in a whirlpool, quite close.

His bedraggled appearance makes him seem older than he is. He settles into a rhythm with the whirlpool, steadying himself, and he notices me.

“You’re not from the stream, are you? You an ocean dweller?”

“What’s that?”

“Someone not in the left lane, going fast, you choose the right hand road instead of the center. Ocean dwellers are slow, monotonous. They spin and swirl around ideas instead of following them. An ocean dweller isn’t brave enough to compete.

“I swim the stream, pitting my wits and speed against other stream swimmers. Someday I’ll find the river that runs to the source.”

“I guess I’m an ocean dweller.”

“At least you’re not a bottom feeder. They slow the stream swimmers down.”

“I don’t think I’m a bottom feeder.”

“The river man! There’s no life until you reach the river. Make it to the river and you got it made. Then it’s easy street. Being a stream swimmer is hard.”

“Wouldn’t the river be harder than a stream?”

“That’s crazy talk. I can’t talk to you anymore. You’re not a bottom feeder. You’re a rock in the stream, not taking anything from me but time because I have to get around you. But time is sometimes more precious. Get away from me rock stopper.”

“I am not a rock stopper...”

“Coulda fooled me rock stopper.”

“That’s not my name...”

But the stream swimmer had already gone back into the stream. I wait in the eddy of water between the ocean and the stream. The current relaxes me. The stream swimmer’s muscles ripple as he moves away. The shimmer of bright light bouncing through the water plays off his body, dancing along with him. The white light surrounds the corridor of the stream, illuminating a soft blue hue over all those moving ever upwards. There are a lot of them.

I hope he makes it to the river.

If the stream swimmer stopped at any point he would flow back into the ocean, back towards me.

I look down the corridor of the stream towards the ocean from whence I came. I like the eddy of the water where the stream meets the ocean. The ocean is deep and dark. There is no light. I am afraid of the bottom feeders, but maybe I can see them coming.

I am doing it. I am swimming the stream. I encounter many stream swimmers. I did not realize how many really try to swim the stream. Or how many cannot ride the current.

Up ahead, I see the stream swimmer I met. He looks tired. He has stopped in another eddy, like a whirlpool, that spins him around but does not take him back downstream.

“What are you doing here ocean dweller? The stream is not meant for you.”

“I am tired of being an ocean dweller. Are you going to continue on?”

“In a little while. I’m sure I will see you washed back to the ocean.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Every swimmer needs to rest and sometimes swimmers get pushed out of these pools. That’s why I got washed downstream where you met me, ocean dweller. The stream isn’t meant for the likes of you. You better turn back.”

“I will go until I’m tired.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Your color is too dark for the stream. You don’t belong. You don’t shine when you swim. You will be plucked from the water.”

“Not by you, circle swimmer.”

“Hey! You just watch yourself, if you can ride a Big Runner, take the tip.”

“How will I know a Big Runner from a stream swimmer?”

“You’ll know.”

There is no night for the stream swimmer, only day. The bright sun burns light into every molecule of the stream, making the atmospher glow aquamarine. The stream waters are warm, not cold like the ocean. Many stream swimmers are just standing still. They never move. They tread water or reside in a whirlpool like the stream swimmer I met at the beginning of my journey.

The day wears on, with no change in the position of the sun. The time is different here and I am hungry. There is no food floating in the stream, it is all washed away to the ocean. I try to grasp at particles that drift by, but they are moving too fast for me. Up ahead, there is a big object in the water, ponderous, and slow. There are sharper objects on its back.

I recognize those shapes. They are swimmers. Many different kinds.

Oh! this must be one of the Big Runners the stream swimmer was talking about. I am getting tired. Maybe I can get a ride for a while.

I pick up my pace to reach the Big Runner. He is moving real slow, probably because of the heavy load on his back.

He moves so slowly it is hard to keep pace with the Big Runner. It is easier on my body to go faster, but I have to know about this beast. I motion to one of the riders.

“Are all of you riding that Big Runner?”

“Yes, what does it look like?”

“I’ve never seen one.”

“Well, now you have.”

“Where is it taking you?”

“To the Lakehouse.”

“What’s a lake?” I skip a beat. “And what’s a house?”

“You must be an ocean dweller. Well, a lake is a smaller body of water than an ocean, but there is food and lodging. That’s what a house is. Lodging.”

“Oh! How long will it take to get there? I’m kinda hungry after all this swimming.”

“Well, of course you are, you’re an ocean dweller. You live long, fat lives. Us stream swimmers are quick and crafty, knowledgeable of the stream. You won’t survive out here. Go back home.”

“When will the Big Runner get you to the Lakehouse?”

“Stop pestering me. The more I move, the harder it is for the Big Runner to swim. This one has already had to stop in between whirlpools because it was so tired, and we were all washed downstream with it.”

“You could have gotten off and swam the distance yourself.”

The riders on the Big Runner laugh at the ocean dweller.

“You are ignorant. That would be more work for us. No matter if we don’t get there before the other stream swimmers, at least we won’t tire ourselves out and fail like a little ocean dweller.”

I swim passed the tired Big Runner and get ahead of the laughter that vibrates through the water after me. My sight travels further in the stream than in the ocean. I see at a greater distance than I can hear. I turn my head backwards to look where I have come.

The Big Runner makes the turn around the bend in the stream, but he cannot complete the movement. His belly goes up and all the riders fall off into the stream. Their limbs flail, but I guess they have spent so long riding the Big Runner, they do not have the strength to fight the current of the stream.

Maybe they will talk to an ocean dweller like me when they reach the end of the stream.

Up ahead, the stream looks a little darker than the rest. There are objects before the darkness, though. They can’t be other ocean dwellers. I haven’t seen others like me since I started. Also, they are bigger, really big, and even darker than me. They don’t move at all.

I slow my pace even more, but it doesn’t seem to help. As I get closer, the current gets weaker and it is easier to swim. With barely a movement I go forward, as if the objects pull me into them, beckoning. I know what they are now.

Rocks. Big rocks in the middle of the stream. That’s why there is a back up of water forming a lake in the stream. These rocks interrupt the flow. I haven’t seen rocks this big before.

What did the stream swimmer say? Bottom feeders? I have to watch out.

The towering rocks in front of me dampen the bright light surrounding the stream. The current is almost as weak as the eddy where I used to watch and play. I pause for a moment. The rocks are interspersed throughout the stream, but they do not block it. There is a space above them. I do not need to go through the rocks.

I swim at the top of the stream above the darkness the rocks create, where there is still some light. There is not much room. The water is thin, as if I am swimming in a corridor of water compressed between the rocks and an air pocket outside of the stream.

The corridor is getting thinner the further into the rocks I go, but now I see there are things moving in between the rocks. There are faces down there. Other swimmers. They are speaking.

I look at them, their mouths move, and then I pass by without ever hearing an utterance. Just gaping maws, blacker than the shadows they live in. But there’s something else down there. I can feel it. I know there is. Just then, I feel a quaking vibration behind me.

The rocks behind me have moved. The faces and bodies in between the rocks start to shriek. They are not looking at me anymore. What are they looking at?

A giant shadow starts to extend out in front of me. I swim faster, slowing down just enough to see what is happening behind me. The shrieks are all around me now and so is the shadow. As I look behind me, I know why.

The rocks in the stream, have moved up, skywards, and are even out of the stream. I can see the rocks perpendicular to the stream, yet coming down hard. I know now what the rocks are. The rocks are teeth, and I am swimming in the maws of a great mouth.

My swimming is frantic, made even more so from the great amounts of water that the mouth carried with it outside of the stream, that is now rushing back into it. The frothing water makes it hard to navigate. I am pushed towards the teeth of the beast.

My body tumbles amongst the rocks and I touch several of the dark figures at the bottom. The darkness I saw is a viscous liquid that burns my skin. In the shadows of the rock shaped teeth, I can see the bottom portions of these creatures mired in the tar colored floor of the stream. Now I realize why the creatures can only shriek. The poor beasts cannot speak because the viscous liquid has dissolved their soft throats.

The bubbling froth brings me close to a tooth and I push off with all my might. In the darkness that is quickly crowding around me, I see pale, blue light forming a halo outlining the teeth ahead of me. I bet I can swim eddies better than any stream swimmer, and this mouth was now a plethora of those.

The shrieks deafen me. The sound bounces off of the teeth, making me close an eye in a grimace. I cannot stop. I won’t stop. The blue light is getting bright, as if I am coming up from a great depth in the ocean. I will burst through the surface and feel light warm me brilliantly in a flash before I splash down into the cool tranquility of home.

I have never swum this fast before. My vision blurs skimming the last of the bottom feeders as they burn my undersides with their feeble, half-digested limbs.

The light ahead is thinner and goblets of dark liquid are falling into the water around me, like acid. One last burst. One last burst. One last...

My eyes flutter open, as if waking from a dream.

“Now you wake up. Close call back there, ocean dweller. Very close call. I’m surprised you made it this far. Hell, I’m surprised you even tried.”

“Where am I?”

“At the Lake House. Or what’s left of it, I should say.”

I look around my surroundings to see rubble strewn everywhere, with steam vents churning the pieces of what once was a structure.

“What happened here?”

“Curious fellow aren’t you? Well, I guess you would have to be to leave the comfort of the ocean. You should be resting, not asking questions. But, since you asked...I do hold dominion over these parts.”

“What are you?”

“First things first, ocean dweller. You asked about what happened here, and I will tell you. A natural calamity, one that is not particular to this location. My dominion was not the first one hit, and I believe most of the other streams are in danger or have already felt the effects.”

“Did the Great Mouth do this damage?”

“Great Mouth? Oh! You mean the Gate Keeper. No, he came afterwards, to cover up the destruction. Large isn’t he? I have conversed with him several times. Not a bad fellow, but a voracious eater. You saw his victims. Certainly does not discriminate.”

“If you know all of this, you can help.”

“No, I am afraid not. My place is here. We all have our place. When conditions are right again, I will rebuild. Until then, I will wait. There needs to be people that can wait out the bad periods and prepare for the good ones to return, or something equally as good to come around. No, I am a Builder. That is my function. That is my place.

“Right now, I watch the Gate Keeper. He watches me. He is much bigger than me, and he keeps getting bigger. Did you notice in the ocean, the scarcity of food?”

“Yes, but I just searched harder for it.”

“Well, look no further, the Gate Keeper is your culprit.”

“He could not have eaten everything.”

“No, but he does not let anything by that he does not want to. You are a lucky fellow to have escaped him, but you cannot linger.”

“Why? I am hurt, I need to rest.”

“Can you swim?”

“Yes.”

“Then you have rested enough. You cannot stay here. You are the first to get past the Gate Keeper. He was meant to stop stream swimmers, not ocean dwellers. There might already be more unexpected dangers ahead. Ones I have not seen before.”

The Builder stops one final time.

“Swim quickly now. Get to the river and go until the Great Light above you is blinding, then jump into the burning sky. I will stay here to pause the Gate Keeper. He has been sitting for a long time, but will probably follow you. Good luck, ocean dweller.”

I get and begin swimming like the Builder said. I look back. I watch the Builder stand at the edge of his broken house. He is flanked on both sides by steaming vents. I see the great maw of the Gate Keeper open just wide enough to swallow the Builder. I hope the Gate Keeper is as slow as a Big Runner.

Debris continues to pass my face as I swim. I am at the third destroyed Lake House. The sight is common now. I imagine there must be more of the same ahead of me, or there is even greater destruction I have not seen. I am not phased by the desolation.

I stop and settle myself in between two rocks. It would be hard for someone to see me from above or on either side. I rest a little. My limbs ache from the strain of constant swimming. I wish there were a whirlpool around that could twirl me to sleep.

No rest for me, though.

A lumbering sound comes from behind, as if the streambed were being crushed under some intense weight. I get out from between the safety of the rocks and see my worst fear.

The Gate Keeper is coming, fast.

I skirt around wreckage while he just barrels through it, flattening it as he goes. My bobbing and weaving is not getting me any further from the beast.

Then I hear it, a great rushing of water, the likes of which I have never known. Up ahead is darkness, cascading darkness, and I must fight the current. It is so strong here. Yet I know why. This is the opening to the river I have been searching for.

This must be where the Source comes from. This stream is fed by the river, which runs toward the ocean where I lived. My moment of gaiety at my inspiration is short-lived.

The current is not slowing down the Gate Keeper, but I can make it. The beast will not beat me. I will get to the river.

The tumbling waters roil around me, while I sprint from eddy to eddy, moments of calm in a sea of danger. A little forward, a little back, two steps in the right direction for every step I’m pushed away. One part is locked up, while the next part is opened to me.

I know fate is gaining. Darkness, ready to swallow everything about me, and leave me only able to contemplate my attempt to make this journey, waiting to die inglorious.

That will not be me. I am an Ocean Dweller.

I am changed. My strain manifests. Rage, chemical power, and muscular strength ripples my body. Let some stream swimmer feel disgrace, not me. The powerful current, like a wet rock ready to push me back downstream is broken through. I ratchet up my speed and burst past the barrier to the other side.

Then I’m tumbling over and over again, being swept along without any effort. It is darker here. Then a thought occurs to me. I made it. I am in the river.

I cannot hide forever. Eventually they will find me, but it is not safe swimming the river either. What did that stream swimmer say? Easy street. Yeah. If he had known there would be an entire population of Gate Keepers roaming the river, I’m sure the stream swimmer would have gladly become an ocean dweller right then and there.

I wonder if the Builder knew about the river? He must have. I wish he had told me more though. No, he wouldn’t have.

Two times I have passed by the stream opening where I entered the river. That means one thing. The river is a circle. There must be a way out. If I wait any longer, I will be too weak to even make it back to the ocean. Did I know this was a one-way ticket when I started?

Well, I will have one last go. I break out of my hiding place and am instantly noticed by several Gate Keepers. Those behemoths have no agility, but make up for it with speed and stamina.

A squad of Gate Keepers form behind me. The longer I swim means a greater number of them come up from the depths of the river. A wall of power steamrolls the river behind me, almost forming an underwater wave that pushes out ahead of them.

If I go to shallower waters in the river, then they will cut me off from the relative safety of the riverbed. I would be easy prey outlined by the intense light above the river. Except, that’s the one thing I have not tried.

I do not know how deep the river waters are, but I know the bottom and middle are dangerous. It is a process of elimination. I take the gamble.

I slant my course in a vertical trajectory, up and away from my pursuers. They follow, just as steadfast.

As I transition into the shallows, the water starts to change from dark to light blue. I see light, and it is filling the top portion of the river. The water is less dense, as well. This is what I’m used to. This is home. If only my pursuers left me be.

The light gets brighter and brighter. I look back to see how close the Gate Keepers are, but there is only one left. It is the same one from my stream. Its skin starts to turn black, as if it is being burned.

Up above me, there is a shimmering sheen of crystal clear water, except this water does not move. This water does not ripple. The Gate Keeper, for all its chard flesh is right on top of me. There is no other choice.

Around me there is nothing but bright light, but I know I am still in water. Behind me, I can feel the breath of the monster’s exhaling pain. Its groans mingle with my grunts of effort as the thin, porcelain veneer of water approaches. Right before I hit, I know the top of the river is solid. Yet, I do not slow, I do not stop.

My speed helps me break through the barrier and I find myself floating in open air, ever upwards. The Gate Keeper follows my example, only to let out one last cry of pain before it disintegrates into ash.

I look at my limbs as I too begin to burn. Yet, the burn makes my flesh glow instead of blackening it. Warmth enters my whole being as I break apart into circles of light. I am in a thousand pieces floating around a network of snakelike tendrils of waterways leading to the openness of the ocean below.

I know the pieces of me will be eaten, but not by Gate Keepers.

Let my guiding light shine on those who dwell in the ocean.