Black Ocean

Every summer my family goes on a cruise to the Bahamas. It’s a week-long event, and it's genuinely the perfect way to de-stress. All our work is done for us. We lounge in the sun, we take in the vast blue water that—when you’re far enough out at sea—can almost appear ink black in color; but its slightly jarring color is offset by the glittering reflections of the sun, like thousands of little jewels floating in the waves. It softened the sight, smoothing the small waves just a little.

This is the final “free” summer I have until I graduate from university. In two more semesters I’ll be off on what I hope will be my first real job. As excited as I am, I don’t want it to end. I’m twenty-one but I still feel like a child; a strange half state between a man and a boy.

Tomorrow morning we’ll dock back in Florida and I’ll be back in the present. But, as per tradition, my family and I will sit on the main deck in our lounge chairs on the last evening and witness the sunset. We’re close but far enough from land that it’s hidden from our view, so all we see is an expanse of dark ocean—and, of course, the streaks of orange and blue painted in the sky. 

It feels like we’re the only people in the world when we’re out here. For all we know, we could be the only people for miles and miles; excluding sea life, of course. At first, the idea of other creatures swimming below us, potentially gigantic in size, was unsettling to me. After so many years of vacationing I became accustomed to the idea, more or less ignoring it. It's not like I could see them anyway.

Luck was not on my side tonight, however. My parents both have food poisoning and decided to rest in their cabin, and my siblings are drunk on the power that entails. They are off at the arcades, or maybe have snuck into the casinos; either is beyond me. 

I sit alone, staring at the descended sun as it lingers half-way behind the sea. It’s different tonight. The sun is so large I can see the details of its surface and it's bright enough to hurt my eyes. I squint and take in the other vacationers around me, muttering and murmuring to each other. The atmosphere feels tense; everyone is pulled taut like marionettes, huddled near each other in fear. I turn to the two girls my age sitting near me, who meet my gaze with wide eyes. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” I ask, leaning over my seat to hear their response; everyone’s quiet conversations are forming together into something loud.

“I’ve never seen the sun this big,” the girl in the pink swimsuit says, her voice trembling. “It can’t be normal.”

I look back at the sun, shading my eyes in vain. “I don’t think it is.” 

The sun is only shown a sliver beyond the ocean. Soon, it'll be replaced by the moon, and we’ll come away with stories of the massive sun we saw on vacation. My sisters will think I’m being dramatic, but it’ll certainly make them feel disappointed about missing out.

No one is overheated either, which I find strange. Maybe it's an optical illusion? There’s no way the sun being so near earth wouldn’t make the weather unbearably hot. In fact, I’m a bit chilly; though that could be from shock or fear. No one else is showing signs of being burned.

We all sit in silence after a while, too entranced by this horrifying sight to continue our theories. It takes a while, but eventually the sun disappears and in its place is a low hanging full moon. Everything feels normal again, barring the slightly eerie aftereffect of the event.

People break off to their respective activities; conversations are struck anew, the pool a deck below us is occupied again. I stay, however, along with a small few others. The girl in the pink swimsuit was abandoned by her friend and has moved her chair closer to mine. A couple is standing at the railing, eying another apprehensively. A young boy and what looks to be his sister are talking quietly.

Before, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion; now, it was like the unexpected drop of a pen. 

I couldn’t process anything before it happened. The sky lit up. The sun appeared again, growing larger and larger as it quickly reversed itself in the sky. It reminded me of the magnification of a scope on a colossal scale.

How did we all not burn to ashes? The sun in its immensity was falling toward us; we should have all caught on fire. Our sight should be completely destroyed. 

Each moment that passed it grew impossibly larger. The ocean, rattled by this cosmic event, was growing unruly. In the far distance, just below the sun, an enormous wave was growing taller as it made its way toward our ship.

Everyone was screaming now. I turned to the girl beside me, who once again met my eyes. We were both silent as the world around us went to chaos. I wanted to ask her what her name was—after all, we were going to drown in this wave together—but I decided it was ultimately pointless. Even if I knew her name, she would always be the girl I died with. So, I took her hand and squeezed it, and I felt the pressure of her hand in return.

The wave was half covering the sun and close enough to begin tipping the ship. I wanted to close my eyes, but I just couldn’t look away from the ocean water. Now that it was a large wall blocking my sight of the sun entirely, I felt a stupid kind of awe. I could not believe how black the water really was. 

Without the light reflecting against it, it looked completely solid.