Fractal Sea

Day 1

This world is thought to be made of layers of thin filaments, according to several ancient scientists. Even thinner filaments were used to create those individual layers of filaments. They ultimately enclose one another, forming "matter" and "antimatter," which are the origins of existence.

But that also brought up a more important query.

These thin filaments were made by whom?

What being has the ability to create things that are thought to be the foundation of all existence?

Could it be a divine entity? A greater presence above human comprehension?

There may be no answer to it.

Such matters are spiritual in nature, and modern scientists don't dabble in them.

Is there truly a divine entity that resides within us humans, or above our existence?

A familiar voice echoes near the entrance. "Mika, I'm home!"

"Ah, welcome home, father!" I said as I dashed to the entrance. "Wow, I wrote so much stuff that I didn't realize it's nearly sunset."

"You've been writing while I'm away? Now that's nice, that's also a way for you to study." As he said so, father took something out from his bag. "But how about you pause the writing for now? I brought us some roasted chicken for dinner!"

"Yay! Father, you're the best!"

"Now then, wash your hands first. We wouldn't want our dinner to be dirty from ink, do we?"

I didn't even feel the time passing as I kept my pen on the paper, writing nearly innumerable amount of letters and words. Well, it's not like I understand everything I've written, since all I've done was copying things I've read from another book to write on the other. That might not make sense, but it's the best I can do for now. After all, I'm still on Elementary School age, according to father. He kept saying I won't be as good as the greatest writers out there like Shakespeare and Hans Christian Andersen if I don't grow up.

And so from that day onward, I've decided what I wanted to become when I grow up. To become a great writer, known worldwide! People will praise me, admire my writing, and most importantly, make my father happy by all the money I can gain!

Unlike usual, father asked me things during dinner. Usually he'd stay silent until he's done eating, but it seems today's different. I wonder why.

"So Mika, what have you been writing while I'm away?" Father said between him chewing food in his mouth.

"I've copied the things I've read to this paper here! Look!" I said as I handed him the papers I've wrote on.

"Let me see," father said as he held the food plate in one hand, and the papers in the other. "Hmm... Do you actually understand these words you've written?"

"I do understand some, but a lot of them are complicated words that makes my head spin! Like this word, 'phylament', I think?" I said in confusion, pointing to a specific part on the paper.

"It's 'filament', Mika. Simply put, it's a word to describe objects shaped like a thread; thin, flexible, and composed of many more smaller threads inside of it."

"So it's like clothes thread?"

"Precisely. I knew you'd understand quick." He said as he rubs my hair gently.

Thinking back about it, I never asked father of who he was before I was born. All he's ever said is that he decided to move to the seaside ever since mother passed away when I was three years old. I think it was because this house we currently live in was mother's house as a child, which means it's also father's property. I'm not sad about leaving the bustling village to live here, and that's because of this beach also that I get to develop a new hobby; writing!

But still, I'd be lying if I say I'm not curious about it. And so, I decided to be brave and asked father about it.

"Father?" I asked as I put down my plate.

"Yes, Mika? What is it?"

"May I know what this beach is? I've been curious all this time, but I never thought to ask."

"Ah, about that..." father sighed a bit, then looked up to the ceiling.

"... I don't know about it myself."

I then frowned in disbelief, "Oh, too bad, then..."

As if not wanting to see me disappointed, father followed, "What's clear is that your mother knows the most about this beach more than anyone. She lived here her whole life before meeting me, after all."

My curiosity then peaked to a different subject entirely, forgetting what subject I tried to ask the first time, "Speaking of mother, what was she like, father?"

Father then smiled gently as he started to talk about mother, a person who had been missing in my childhood. Mother was once known as the "Flower of the Village", a phrase used to describe the most beautiful woman in the village. However, she's also not the type of woman who paraded her beauty, as most of the time her nose and mouth are covered by a black veil, and her clothes cover the majority of her body. The only thing people can see are her silky smooth black hair flowing against the wind, and her green eyes that glitters like an emerald. It's said that only father ever seen her face as a whole, as he's the only man who's ever had a relationship with her. Father sure took great pride in that.

When I was born, mother became very ill and weak. Many doctors and medicine sellers tried curing her, but to no avail. It seems her life truly cannot be saved. At that time, many people seem to curse my birth as mother's undoing, but father denied all those words and loved me as a daughter, as who I should be. Miraculously, mother survived until I turn three years old, as she was presumed to only be able to live until I reach two. Because of that, I still vaguely remember mother's face. She was very pretty, has a long, glistening black hair that feels smooth when touched, and an emerald green eye which she inherited to me, her daughter.

"But Mika," father suddenly interjected his own words, "Why are you only curious about your mother now? I've never once heard you ask anything about her before this."

Father may be right, as even I have no recollection of ever asking about mother. Why was that, I wonder?

"Well, maybe it slipped my mind until now. You kept telling me that when I forgot about something, right? That it slipped my mind." Nonchalantly, I answered.

"Ah, yes, I suppose so." Father said as he took a glass of water and drank from it. "Well, there's time and place for everything. When you have more questions, ask me tomorrow, okay? Because now is the time to sleep. Prepare your bed, and I'll prepare mine."

"I see, then I'll ask you lots tomorrow! Good night, father!"