A Sea of Tears and Flame

The blood clouded into the grey water. Like dark tendrils around the coral, entwined snakes spiralled, creating a web of holes. Pitiful moanings filled the air, groans of agony, hatred, desperation. Struggling, I fought furiously, thrashes of scales littered the sea, tangling with the transparent white jellyfish.  It crinkled as it moved with the current, its tentacles thick and curved. But still I was trapped. I twisted vigorously. 

But still I was lifted upwards.

More anguished sharks arrived, moaning, trying to tear at the dormant snakes.

But still I was dying.

I was heaved out of the water.

Dark, murky waters. Coral, dead. Black. The few fish, the few life lay mourning. The sunset of blood was still falling, complete with its clouds of scales and flesh. The sharks swam in agitated circles, confused. Where had he gone? He was there a minute ago, then lifted and killed by the spirally snakes. They dropped the shiny crescent moon down, its sharp, metallic edge piercing his body, and yanked him up. He was gone.

I was hauled onto the sodden deck. My energy was fading, my movements sluggish. A gash dripped blood down my flank. Red blood. Mortal blood. I moaned and tried to lift my head. It slammed back down to the floor, and the world grew fuzzy. 

A fisherman staggered across the deck, clapping Shayne on the shoulder heartily. “Well done. Looks a big un’.”

“Nice catch,” remarked Arlox, looking up from his beer-soaked newspaper. Another man, Dae, leaned against Arlox’s chair. “Hard to find many of em’. I wonder where they all went.” He turned to Malax. “Don’t you ever think we’re too nice to them?” Malax chuckled softly, his eyes lighting with humour.

“I never think. Haven’t the brain. I’m sure it’s all turned to mush by now.” He exploded into raucous laughter, the others joining him nervously. Rylan leaned over to Shayne. “I’m sure he’s got a screw loose,” he whispered, the rush of his breath brushing Shayne’s ear. Shayne couldn’t help but agree. Arlox motioned to him, and Shayne followed. They stopped beside the shark. “Beauty, isn’t it?” Arlox said. Shayne closed his eyes briefly in grief. The shark shouldn’t have had to die. He glanced over to Arlox, then realised he wasn’t looking at the shark. Confusion furrowing his brow, he followed Arlox’s gaze. The fisherman was admiring the sunset. “Look at all those colours. Stunning.” Arlox smiled, in the way a child would at a puppy. “What d’ya think?”

“Yeah... it’s great,” Shayne replied. Arlox raised his beer glass, only half full.

“Here’s to life,” he exclaimed. Shayne lifted his own glass, forcing a smile. “Yes, life.” The two swigged their alcohol, disregarding the slowly cooling corpse beside them.

A turtle swam through the tenebrous waters, fighting his way through snakes and jellyfish. Something was floating in the water ahead of him. He batted it gently. What was it? He circled around it, quietly studying it. Was it food? It looked like it. He was starving, so were his kids. They were only young, innocent, pure of heart. But… there was no fish. No food, but the gloomy water, that wasn’t water at all but a landfill of white jellyfish that tasted... weird. Zialli didn’t understand. The sea was free one minute, then in the grasp of the strange jellyfish the next. Was it some plague from the Spirits? It must be. They hated him. Nothing else could’ve caused destruction like this unless it was the Spirit’s will. Silently glancing upwards, Zialli gazed at the mass of shifting jellyfish, hoping in vain to see the sun’s rays through them. What had he done to deserve to quietly fade away, to die knowing his life had accomplished nothing? Ignoring the strange texture, he grasped the object in his mouth, swimming away to feed the family he loved.

Two silhouettes sat beneath a decayed palm tree, legs splayed onto dark brown sand. The bark was ink black and splintering, strips falling off like old paint.

“But don’t you ever wonder -?”

“No, you never wonder. It leads to action, which leads to conflict, which leads to death.” The kid drew back, a horrified expression on his face, shadowed by curiosity. She turned to him, searching in the depths of his sapphire eyes for some form of remorse. “It has happened before. They questioned. A fool’s errand.” Arana stopped and reached out to clasp her child’s hand. “It reduced a utopia to wreck and ruin. It is a sin.” 

“What are people meant to do, then?” Shayne asked.

“They are meant to accept what is and what will be. They are meant to conform.” Arana dropped Shayne’s hand, and jolted upright, struggling to her feet.

“You see, you don’t question society. Society questions you.”

‘Society questions you.’ Shayne could finish his mum’s unspoken question. And I’m failing. Around him rose the trees, dying, creaking; beneath him, the sand - or what you could the maroon sticky granules at a push, in front of him, the expanse of bleached sea, smoky waves that pushed more than pulled. The Spirits would help him. They had to. For what would humankind come to, without someone to rely on? Someone to give them hope? We needed that sense of security. Society did, as much as it required its rules. Shayne heard a clatter from inside the hut. Hesitating slightly, Shayne struggled inside, throwing the door open carelessly. Rows of medicines and foodstuffs aligned the shelves, neatly and assiduously placed in alphabetical order. “Ah, Shayne.” Arana paused, looking him over with suppressed scorn. She faked a grin, and her eyes falsely glowed with strained excitement. “We’re going down to the market today.” She herded Shayne out of the room, closing the door three times. Shayne looked at her, a question in his eyes. “For luck,” she said. They both stalked off to the market, cloths over their faces. 

It was like a ghost town. While many merchants still stood behind their stalls, their produce was decaying or decayed. Carts were rotten, falling apart. Arana strolled up to the nearest, casting her eyes over the goods. She dropped her hand into her pocket, and it emerged with her purse. She handed the rancid money over to the merchant, picking up the fish she had brought. It was still bloody. Shayne wandered away. He eyed a stall filled with candied fruit. As he reached for his own money, he hesitated. Deciding whether to take it and run or not, a girl emerged from the market and walked over to the stall. She laid five grey notes on the counter. Shayne spun round to her. “Seemed like the right thing to do,” she said, guessing his question. “My name’s Mica.” She meandered through the market, beckoning Shayne to follow. “You know, they speak of a legend, back in the Golden Years. They speak of the heartbeat of creation, surrounded by the Three Flames. It pulsed weaker every day. The Spirits never helped. They never existed.” Shayne huffed, starting to walk back to the entrance.

“Just because I have a different opinion to you doesn’t mean you have to turn away,” Mica said. Shayne stopped. Mica raised her voice louder. “You put too much blind faith in religion. It’s time to work things out for yourself.” Shayne walked back to where Mica stood, listening intently to her words.

“Get out there and do what you have to do. You can’t always blame another person and expect some mythical deity to float down and make your life perfect. You murdered the shark, didn’t you?”

“It was what they wanted me to do…”

“But not what you wanted to do?” Shayne dropped his head, determination shining in his steady state. “Yes, we made mistakes. We razed a planet to the ground. But insight means nothing without compassion.” Mica narrowed her eyes fiercely.

“Your Spirits are a lie. You cannot rely on something made-up,” she said.

“It’s not - It is more than that. It has so many meanings. It is integrity and hope, but also betrayal and restraint. It is confidence and a hoax, understanding and tragedy.” Shayne paused, walking past the market to the shoreline. He closed his eyes, then opened them, staring out to the black sea, resolute. “It is humankind.”

Mica stalked up to him, sitting down on the sand. “We could use a spokesman, Shayne.” Shayne smiled, genuinely this time. He turned to Mica, kindness mingled with courage in his face. “We could use a fighter.”

Deep beneath the sea, a heart thudded. While it pulsed weak, the Three Flames surrounded it, Justice, Hope and Honesty, burning violet, yellow and red. The Spirits of Compassion, Intelligence, Strength and Grace hovered beside them, silently believing for the first time in a while. A final creature joined them. Zialli, watching Mica and Shayne on the shoreline, admiring the sunset.

The Spirits smiled.

Even though two flames dwindled, one flared even brighter. Hope.

The turn of the tide had begun.