Samir lay in bed, still awake.
His eyes remained wide open as they stared at an empty wall. Crusted, his eyelids looked as if they were forcing themselves open, as a streak of tears formed across them from the strain.
Curling in his bed, he wiped them, rubbing his eyes.
I wish I could just go to sleep, but the burning bullet seeps into my memory. That flare gun burns in my hand. And the words that came out of his mouth never allowed me to.
As long as I sail the waves, does he still expect me to ever keep quiet anymore? Are the titles above lieutenant even worth it at this point?
Samir sat up on his mattress, his knees hugging his torso.
Suddenly, a small light crept in, like a yellow flare in a container.
The door had opened, and standing tall, the silhouette was undoubtedly Cyrus.
He held a lantern and carried another, heavier object in his other hand, but it hid itself in the shadows.
"Uncle? It's late. What is it you need?" Samir firmly asked.
Cyrus stepped in, his large frame blocking the open doorway, but the lantern illuminated it.
A photo album. Thick. Golden.
Immediately—
Slam!
He threw it on the ground, opening it midway through.
"It was overlooked when they opened the door," Cyrus coldly spoke.
He sighed. "Now, I want you to look through it and tell me if there was any better way to do it."
Samir's eyes were red from keeping them open for too long; now he couldn't close them even if he wanted to. He stared at Cyrus, then at the open book, switching between what to view.
He blurted, "So you wake me up for this—"
Cyrus turned his back and shut the door quietly.
Now, only the waves could be heard at this time of night.
Samir exhaled, getting up from his mattress and walking up to the book.
Turning on the light in his room, he saw it. Felt it. Hated it.
The open page of the photo album it had landed on.
"No. That can't be. D-did they all see this?" Samir spoke to himself in disbelief.
He stepped back, avoiding touching the book, and couldn't avert his eyes from it.
If that were only one page, one photo, imagine an entire collage.
. . .
Malik sunk back into his world. It welcomed him again, in whispered voices.
He stood at the bow, his hands behind his back, staring out.
I can't see his image here. Here I am alone, here I am safe. Here, nothing can bother me any longer. This is a dream I so longed for.
But something feels odd. Why am I always aware in my dream? Can I just be truly asleep, even if it was for a minute? Whether asleep or awake, this ship awaits me.
Malik paid attention to the blue ocean and saw something blend in with it. Something dark that rejected it. The consistency was of oil and water, but the oil was dark, charcoal-like. It was like the contour of the ocean.
Malik exhaled. He saw that there was no movement within the water. It only reflected the glare of chrome from the sides of the ship.
He spoke out loud to himself. None would hear him anyway.
Muttering, "Is this ocean what she saw in that sky? What they all saw?"
His hands gripped the cold railing of the bow. His hand hung over the parting ways of darkness.
Nevertheless, the ship, along with Malik, leaned into it. He didn't turn around. In fact, he set the sail higher, so that the ship might traverse even quicker.
"Here, none can be harmed. Even if I'm harmed, at least they aren't here to witness it, nor feel it," Malik uttered slowly.
He felt the railing grow colder on his palms, like the ship were entering a tundra.
Malik stared at his open palms as he let go. They looked unaffected, but still felt something lurking within them.
He sighed. "What good have these hands done except hold onto rails or hold onto lies? Surely, they can do better things, right?"
Malik frowned. His cold fingers glided through his hair, a similar color to the charcoal ocean beneath him, only a bit lighter now.
Bubbles began to flow vigorously in the water, etching the ship's bottom outline, as if they fought in an effort to knock the ship off balance.
Suddenly—
Fizz.
The black ocean seeped into the ship's metal, slowly dissolving it. Smoke clouded around the ship as the metal melted.
The rooms from below, the doors, and the memories all washed away. Gently, the ocean scrubbed down layers of the ship as if it were filing it down to its last bone.
Malik closed his eyes, ignoring the sound and the decreasing altitude as the ship accepted the ocean. But the ocean didn't seem to embrace it; it only seemed angry.
Only a thin plate remained as time passed, and Malik hadn't moved an inch. A black fog surrounded him, unable to see his hand even if he stretched it out, but he kept his demeanor.
The air was not hot, nor burning. It was chilly, freezing, as if the ship had been taken as a means for warmth by the dark sea.
Only a small section remained, and Malik stood atop it. The sail he tightened remained pointing upward, but it felt weaker this time.
He did not allow the fog to engulf him, nor did he fight it.
He kept his hands behind his back, crossed.
He tensed, breathing deeply.
Then, he opened his eyelids slightly.
The fog was gone.
He felt something different beneath his feet. It wasn't the cold floor of chrome metal. No, it was indistinguishable. It crunched, but made way for his feet.
He blurted, "Is this—"
He covered his mouth. His hands shook violently, but he could not contain it.
"Sand. I've always wanted to meet you," Malik said gleefully. "Where have you been all my life? Why can I only ever feel you in here, of all places?"
Malik turned his gaze from the sand, and he glimpsed briefly.
An azure ocean blending with the sky. White clouds drifted like floating ships.
Blue? No—like an aqua, but lively. Almost too lively. He almost didn't want to believe that his mind could conjure this.
He turned around, and he saw another sight. His arms and legs jittered, and his smile creased further.
Thick green leaves, curved wood beneath them, the smell of dirt below, collages of it all. The leaves were thick, with various veins visible if inspected closely enough. The wood was ridged, thick, and musky.
Without a second's thought, Malik sprinted toward it. His feet sank rapidly into the sand. He tried to reach it, but couldn't. The leaves waved goodbye to him as he submerged within the sand.
His hands reached out to the paradise he had taken for granted.
If only he had looked for another second.
Just another second.