The Presence

I am not alone. Millions of creatures surround me, but none with which I can communicate. I may feel alone, but I am not alone. Nothing stands out on the surface of the water. It is what is inside that is unique. It is the depths of uncharted territories and questions that human-kind may never be able to answer. 

The clear blue water holds my attention as I excitedly put on my dive gear. Going on a solo dive is tricky, but I have done it many times before. The fears that run through my mind will not take over me this time. I am going on a solo dive to see the beauty of the unknown. To find what has never been found before. The anchor of my sailboat sinks into the water as I jump in beside it. Millions of particles surround me. Closing my eyes, I feel the different layers of life grace my wetsuit. 

I dive deeper and come across a beautiful sea of fish swimming by a pile of trash that I proceed to pick up and place in my TRSHBG. One sock, a ton of fish hooks, a plastic water bottle, hair ties. Nothing new. 

As I swim deeper, the water gradually becomes darker. I Scan the rocks for something new that is hiding from the face of reality.

An underwater cave draws my attention. It is not horizontal, but at an angle facing downward. I cannot tell its depth or exactly how dark it is. My curiosity propels me to swim inside. There is a small segment of light, but the rest is pitch black. Uneasily dark. I have never seen anything so blinding before. I close my eyes to shut out the darkness and try to feel the particles of life around me, but I feel nothing for the first time. I feel alone. 

A current enters the cave and starts to draw me down. The pressure becomes too much, so I swim away. The uneasy feeling of being so alone stays with me as I come back into the light to see a stingray. It is there, and I am here, but we are both alone in our own ways. 

Making my way back to where the sea meets the sky, I notice the fog besieging my sailboat. A mist that is so dense that I cannot see more than 300 feet ahead. Getting back on to my boat, I am eager to leave the ocean. To go back to land. Back home. 

The needle on my compass is following a slow spinning motion. I tap it to fix the issue, but it starts spinning uncontrollably fast and, inevitably, breaks. 

I am lost at sea. It's funny that I had never felt this fear before. I have been anxious about drowning, but never getting lost in the place that attracts me the most. 

“I am not alone,” I screamed in hopes that someone would hear me.

“I AM NOT ALONE!” 

This phrase is comforting. There is someone near that will save me and take me back home. Everything will be okay. 

“Is anyone out there? Hello!” rang in the distance. 

“Yes! Someone’s here!”

“Come to my voice. I am with the coast guard. I will bring you to safety.” 

The ship’s fuzzy outline slowly emerges through the fog; the growing figure has a red hue. Upon the boat reaching a safe enough proximity to jump over, I do. It feels so cold. There was nothing there to warm me, and no one in sight. Alone, again.

Turning right, I follow a path leading up to the captain's deck. The uneven stairs hold great uncertainty. Electrical shocks jump out of the cold touch of the metal railing. 

Turning the corner, I see someone. Pale white skin and black hair stand staring at me in my periphery. Nothing is there upon turning to face it. Closing my eyes and shaking my head, I expel the vision. Someone called me out here. I am not alone.  

“Hello? Is someone here?”

No response. There is no one there, but I see something. I checked again to catch it off guard and nothing. I must have been hallucinating, hearing someone calling me to safety. I must still be on my sailboat. This is all fake. It is all my mind playing games on me. I tightly close my eyes to reveal reality. 

“Open your eyes.” 

I’m hallucinating. There is nothing here. This is not real.

“Open your eyes.”

“No.” A cold shiver slithers up my spine and forces my eyes open.

“I said, open your eyes!”

* * *

It’s dark. Blindingly dark. An effort to breathe results in the water taking over. Swimming up, I finally find the light, but it does not hold comfort. The first thing I encounter is a stingray, but I feel separated from it. This feels familiar. A current from the cave I had just left pushes my tired body to the line where the sea meets the sky. 

A dense fog surrounds me. I climb onto my sailboat and know that it is time to leave. The shaking extension of my movement reaches for the compass as my lungs make an effort to expel the discomfort of intrusive water. 

I can’t believe it. The compass is spinning in continuous motion. The rattling tapping of my finger on its glass covering causes the needle to speed up until it stops. It will not move at all. 

“I am not alone. I AM NOT ALONE!” 

“Is anyone out there? Hello!” 

“Yes! Someone’s here!”

“Come to my voice. I am with the coast guard. I will bring you to safety.” 

An uneasy feeling settles in my gut as I vividly recall this occurrence happening before. A distant memory of a white figure with black features appears in my peripheral vision. I close my eyes and reopen them, causing it to disappear. 

As the red boat approaches, I feel unsteady. Once it reaches proximity with which I can step over, I do. As my foot touches the cold surface of the boat, my heart drops to my stomach. Something is off, but I cannot tell what it is. 

“Hello? Is someone here?”

No response. Climbing up uneven the stairs to the captain's deck causes my heart to race. 

That figure appears in my periphery again. I close my eyes and reopen them, but this time it does not go away. I close them again. 

“Open your eyes. Open your eyes.”

“No.” 

“I said, open your eyes!”

Expecting to be back in that empty abyss, I do. The shock of still being on the coast guard boat shakes me. I cannot see whatever was just talking to me, but I do feel its presence. I know that I am not alone. 

An impression of me being back on land plays in my head. I hear my mother call my name, hearing her say that I’ve been missing for two months and that everyone thought I was dead. 

My mother cries, “Cordelia. Come to me.” Timidly, I walk to her. 

“Come to me.”

The steering wheel jabs into my left leg, but I address it as my dog. Reality has faded away, and my brain is running to what is comfortable.

“Come to mama.”

I see her. I see my mother and feel her presence. She is at the bottom of the driveway of my childhood house. 

“Where have you been?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s okay? Come to me and my comfort.”

Walking down the stairs next to the driveway feels abnormally cold. It looks sunny outside, but I am shivering. 

“You’re almost there.”

Her voice sounds slightly distorted, slightly like a growl.

“Just two more steps, and then jump into my arms.”

She sounds like a demon. This isn't real. 

“No. You’re not real.”

“Open your eyes, and you will see that I very much am. Open your eyes and come to me.”

It’s not her. It's the presence--the white skin and black hair. I see it standing in front of me, not in my periphery but straight ahead. 

“Come to me, and I will take you to safety.”

It is floating on the water off of the boat. The presence is all I can see as the re-emerging fog covers everything else. 

To escape, I jump towards the figure but not directly at it. My foot touches the stiff sand as I land into the water. I am near shore. Tripping and falling, I run as quickly as I can back to safety.

“I told you that I would take you back to safety. Back home.”

Absorbed by disbelief, autopilot takes over, and I float home. The fog drifts away, and I am safe.

Entering through the back door, no one in the house--I search every room, but no one. Stepping through the familiar front doorway, I hear a voice.

“Cordelia? Is that you?”

“Hello?”

“Cordelia! Where have you been?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve been missing for two months. We thought you were dead.” She breaks down, crying. 

“Come to me. Come to mama.”

I timidly walk down the stairs next to the driveway. My dog brushes my leg.

“You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re okay. You’re safe.” 

Her soothing voice calms and assures me that she is real. She is with me. As her skin touches mine for the first time, I break. Shaking and crying, I feel numb. 

The familiarity of the house is comforting. I know where I am and what I am seeing. Nothing is abnormal: I see the coral green wallpaper; I hear the creaking wood floors; my room is exactly how I left it. I was in a rush out of the house as there are clothes and bathing suits on the floor. This image of my past excitement is haunting. 

“You’re back. Everything is fine. Everything is safe.”

“I know.”

“Did you say something, Cordelia?”

“Y-you were talking to me.”

“No, I wasn’t. Are you sure you're okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Closing my eyes to refresh my mind brings back eerie darkness.

“Open your eyes, Cordelia.”