The Dry Ocean

A derelict boat drifted in the vast expanse of the ocean, inching forward under the command of the waves. The surrounding water appeared to encapsulate the world, stretching on for miles in length, much to the displeasure of the expectant boy. As he stood there, his clouded eyes wandered the horizon, watching, searching for the great treasure that he so desperately needed to find.

By the time thirty minutes had passed, the boy’s mind started to wander, glazing over the canvas that seemed like a maze. He shook his head, but all was the same. He could not stop his eyes from their desires. But no. He needed to stop. The boy willed his eyes to focus on the endless blue. His father would have found the treasure, the boy thought, and so he would, too. Whatever this thing was, it would be in the ocean, the powerful ocean, and be enough to make the richest man joyful. He needed to find it. Or else, he would be letting down his mother. His waiting brother. And the whole village which seemed so frail now, as if a child’s push could send it rolling down the cliffs.

But the great winds began to blow from the east, a great mother of storms that made the boy’s eyes squint against the water. He had to sit down on the boat, or else the wind would overthrow his petite body, but his eyes continued to search for something, anything. The darkness soon overtook the boat, but the boy paid no heed - there was no time to waste. If he could not find it today, he would never find it at all. His eyes continued to search.

The wind blew harder still, and the boy’s drooping eyes shot open at the first drops of water. When he whipped his head up, another of God's tears hit his pupil, and he recoiled back into the boat, furiously rubbing his eyes. It truly began to rain then, great big drops of which the boy had never seen before in the village. The black darkness had hidden the attacks that came from the heavens. The boy dropped down as low as he could go, covering his head with his hands, in hopes that the storm would end. It needed to end. And then he felt something underneath the boat. It felt like he was climbing the great back of a snake that was rolling over on its belly. The boat began to bend, to fold, to twist and turn under the siege of the waves. The boy wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to hide, except the boat that provided no cover. But nothing would have protected him from the great monster that was turning underneath the wood. The boy, eyes clouded, glanced up at the sky, wishing for the end. And he saw mountains. Great mountains seemed to pulsate and vibrate and roll across the ground which was the dark water. Too late he realized those were not the mountains he so desperately wanted to see. 

Water rushed into his head and his body, trying to take everything from him, the great monster of the deep, struggling to pull and strangle the boy out of his life. But the boy did not give up. When the monster took his breath from him, the boy fought and gasped for another breath. When the monster slammed his gut and forced him to yield, he did not yield. When the monster roared against him, telling the boy to falter, he struggled on. And then the light came, after an eternity, the glorious light which seemed to save him. And he fell asleep to the dream that was the light. 

When the boy awoke, all he could see was darkness. And then his senses came back: the grit of the land, the pain that arched his back, and the burning inside his head. There was no strength left inside of him. It felt cold. Too cold to the boy. And his mind began to slip, slip into the darkness of sleep, once more into the ravenous depths.

But life did not let him. As if waiting, warm light seemed to grasp him from the pits of darkness, warmth that seemed alien. It held him in its arms, touching his hair and his face, rubbing his heart. The boy's eyes gingerly opened. And he saw her face, the motherly love which radiated from her eyes. He recognized the face.

And he finally realized. Why had he been looking so far when he could find the treasure right next to him? What riches could possibly mean more than this love? He opened his eyes again and looked at the love again. The touch was warm, melting the ice that was on his soul and body, soft and strengthening his heart. And he closed his eyes again, rising to the light of sleep.