Sea For Yourself

Sea for Yourself

An old house sat on a beach, smoke slowly rose from its chimney. The Autumn wind carried the smoke high into the air, and through the hemlocks. The sky reflected off its many windows as it stood there, silently smoking. Dorian Marr sat in his red armchair, looking through the floor-to-ceiling window at the waves. He looked at his watch, and snapped his book shut. He then grabbed a bottle of pills from the little table. He took two with a glass of water. 

At a very young age Dorian’s parents had taken him to the doctor because he had an unusual reaction to most sounds. His parents told the doctor he had hallucinations, and was confused and overwhelmed by loud noises, like music or dogs barking. After dozens of tests the doctors chalked it up to some rare kind of Sensory Overload, and prescribed him pills to take every 6 hours. The pills worked for the most part. He was still incredibly sensitive to sound. He had to double up on them when a thunder storm was coming, or when he had to visit his family, and all his nieces and nephews for Christmas. He used plastic utensils instead of metal ones that clinked loudly when put in the sink. He only went into town about once a month to re-up his meds, and buy groceries. He didn’t have a TV, he mostly sat and read. It was the only thing he really enjoyed, until he discovered scuba diving. He had been certified for about a month now, and couldn’t get enough of it. Things felt different underwater. He felt safe. Schools of fish swam quietly through the water, unlike those awfully honking flocks of geese. 

He had bought the quiet old house from a painter, at a very good price. The painter was evidently going through a divorce. He said he would rather sell it to a stranger than for his ex-wife to have it. The house also came with a little sailboat. The SS Ballena. Which Dorian would take out to go scuba diving. It had only taken him a couple days, and a book called Sailing for Simpletons, to figure out how to work the boat. 

Dorian stood up out of the old chair, and stretched. Leading with his finger he ran through rows of books on his enormous bookshelf. The flames from the fireplace shimmed in his round glasses. His pointer finger eventually found the spot where the book belonged. Its neighboring books had made a little teepee in its absence. He slid the book in. The book was called The Complete Guide to Whale Songs. He had been trying to dive with the whales for the past week, but hadn't had much luck. Today, he was determined. 

 Dorian pulled his duffle bag from out of the hall closet. Inside was his wetsuit and scuba gear. He placed a little golden telescope inside, along with his pill bottle and a book, and zipped it up. He threw on his wool jacket, and walked out the door. 

The moldy wood of the little dock creaked underneath his boots. He walked to the edge and breathed in the sea air. He threw the duffle bag into the SS Ballena, untied the ropes, and pushed out. He let out the old white sail. It wasn't much to look at--more like a very old used bedsheet than anything else: yellowing, and the edges were fraying. Nonetheless, the Fall air filled the sail, and pushed him through the Pacific. It took about an hour to get to the designated spot. This was sure to be on the path of the humpback migration. He undid the sails. It was a waiting game now. He took out his telescope, hoping to see any white water shooting out from a whale getting air. There was nothing. He checked his watch, and began reading the book he packed. After some time he put the book down, and checked his watch again. He had gotten so lost in his book it was well past time to take his pills. He grabbed the bottle, and set the cap down. From behind him there was a woosh, and a great big splash. He whipped his head around, already knowing what it was. In the excitement the bottle fell from his hand and dropped right into the ocean. He watched the pills fizz, and dissolve immediately.  His heart sank. There was no time to go back. The whales were here. He assured himself it would be alright. The huge backs of the whales came closer. Their massive tales pushed through the waves. He hurriedly put on his wetsuit. He put the tank on his back, and put the bit in his mouth.  He shuffled down the rusty little ladder on the boat's side. His heart was beating so fast he swore he could almost see the vibrations. He shook his head, and dropped into the cold water. 

Everything was quiet for a moment. He let the ocean carry him. Floating underwater, as if he was in outer space. He breathed his first breath. Tiny bubbles shot out of the tube. A light blue aura dissipated around the bubbles when he heard them rising to the surface. His head felt hot. Slowly memories that he assumed were dreams came back to him. Being little, and watching the rain hit his window. The pat pat pat on the window, filled his whole room. He did not just hear the sound but he… saw it. He saw each drop hit the window, and the sound ripple out and fill his room. He remembered his parents screaming at eachother. The sounds of their voices coming under his door. Black and spiked. They ran throughout the whole room. Pouring through the door. Terrified he had  passed out, and his mom found him later on the rug. That was the day they took him to the hospital. 

Dorian realized he had shut his eyes at some point. He opened them, and right in front of him was a humpback whale. It floated overtop of him, covering the setting sun like a raincloud. More whales were swimming near. They moved slowly through the water, as the last rays of sun trickled past the surface. The whales began to sing. The sound started from the middle of one whale, and shot across the ocean. Golden rings of sound pulsed around Dorian. The golden sound rippled around him, getting wider and wider. Then the other whales began to sing as well. Arcs of color vibrated through the water. Purples and golds. Light blues and pinks. He could see their song. The saturated colors glowed and pushed out in opposite directions. Dorian and the whales were surrounded by dancing colors. They gyrated in fantastic geometrical patterns. Dorian floated there letting the iridescent sounds surround him. The psychedelic symphony of the whales filled his heart, and pushed out as far as he could see. He floated there until the whales left, and the very last echo of their song faded with them.

Dorian refilled his prescription the next day. He still needed it for things like seeing his family, and for the traffic on the way to the pharmacy. But when he went out alone he often left the pills at home, to listen to the rain or the birds in the morning.(Except the geese, who still bothered him greatly.) And always to experience the song of the whales. 

Fin.