Prosaic.

Submarine

"You don't have to go," Zephyr said. He held both of Felicity's young hands in his, eyes wide with concern and worry.

"We need supplies," he said. The group had been stranded in the shallow town for almost a full day, and after discussing, napping, and then reconvening, the hungry and desperate group had decided on the inevitable: explore the homes of atlantis. They were all fearful. Felicity's fear was heavy and almost painful in his gut, as if he had swallowed a stone and his stomach was now struggling to digest it. However aching, though, he knew he had to do something. He had to help the group. When Zephyr and Tati had first pulled him from the ocean, they fought about how he would bring nothing to the group. Well, now Felicity had a way of proving his value to the group, had a way of becoming indispensable and brave and loved.

Perhaps there were some lingering feelings from his past and his unloving family pushing him into making rash and dangerous decisions for the sake of not others and not himself, but for the sake of how others felt about him. He needed to be wanted, and this, this terrible, dangerous activity, this giant risk, was the only way that he could think of.

Felicity did not think about that. He only thought about how he could do this without dying. The adrenaline, the fear of the water, the fear of what is in the water... It all pushed him. Standing on the edge of the roof, appearing down at the dark reflective surface of the coarse liquid, he froze, trembling, cold sweating. His skin was pale, his fists clenched and white at the knuckles. Zephyr stood beside him, staring down at the black water.

"How will I see?" Felicity asked shakily.

"You'll have to keep your eyes open."

"In this mucky water?"

He sighed, "Yes."

"Don't procrastinate," Tati hissed from beside them, "I'm waiting."

"Why don't you do it instead then, Tati?" Zephyr spat.

"I'm going to get parasites," Felicity whined. It seemed that they were getting cold feet.

"Nobody is making you do this," Zephyr said calmly, placing a broad hand on Felicity's shoulder.

"I gotta," they said plainly. "I gotta."

"Take your time."

"Oh, I am. I am." Felicity had stared at the murky, stagnant water for what felt like years, although really it was only minutes. They fumbled, shuffling their feet, rubbing their hands together, preparing to jump in, preparing to die. I've never wanted to live, they thought silently. Why is it so different now?

What do I have to prove, and who for?

With that, Felicity sat down and slowly slid themselves into the water, plugging their nose, taking a deep breath, and then going under. Their eyes stung as they opened. Still, it was necessary to see. Everything under the water was greenish and blurry, fading in and out of focus like a camera with grease covering the lens. Felicity didn't have much time. They floated down, the blurred image of the underwater houses actually feeling eerie and lonesome. They circled the house, their overgrown hair getting in the way just a bit, waving around them freely without much gravity to weigh it down.

Felicity could vividly imagine these houses from before the flood. Brightly coloured and dry, with a warm, summery backdrop, with green-leafed trees towering overhead, a blue sky with gentle puffs of soft white clouds, people driving down the street, children playing in yards, music wafting in from open windows and street lights painting the street when the night got dark. Flowers in flowerbeds and windowseals, cats running across the road before a car passes, school busses picking up dirty children in the mornings. Felicity imagined how warm and alive this town once was.