Jung Hoseok Oneshots

The Ninth Wave

This follows Kate Bush's 'The Ninth Wave', a story told through seven songs on her album 'Hounds Of Love':

And Dream of Sheep
Under Ice
Waking the Witch
Watching You Without Me
Jig of Life
Hello Earth
The Morning Fog

You can listen to the songs before reading, but I have indicated which song each part of the story is based on. Either way, listen to the songs in full, not just for the story, but because they're pieces of art...

🎧⏯️ 'And Dream of Sheep'

It must have been hours since the ship had disappeared behind  the waves, hours since my  body was tossed over and drawn into the unforgiving water. The water continued to lap at my face, as I can only grasp at the lifejacket and hope the little light keeps me somewhat safe, keeps my lungs from becoming one with the sea. It’s a beacon against the rolling blue, like Venus before the stars awaken. I had stopped crying–I think. I couldn’t tell any more. Everything tasted of salt. My breath is warm, it fogs in front of my face as the torchlight illuminates the only thing that convinces me I’m still alive.It lights up my water coated lashes that impair my vision, which doesn’t matter anyway, it’s water for miles. My hands feel so cold, my teeth chatter, the sound just about topping the sound of the water.  Now it was just my panicked imagination that kept me company–

I flinch. Was that a creature below? It’s scales slipping against my legs? Would I rather be swallowed by a sea creature or drown? No, the only real options were to fall asleep and let my body roll under the white horses, or listen to the voice in my head.

“Stay awake,” it says, gentle.

Sometimes I listen, but I feel so weightless that the gulls that circle above start to look a lot like sheep, waiting for me to count them until I fall asleep. I wish I had a radio with me, something to listen to to keep my eyes open. Maybe the water would glug over it, creating a distorting sound to keep me on my toes–so to speak.

Sometimes I hear my mother. “Come here with me now.” And I wish I was five years old again, crawling underneath her quilted blankets, squeezing my eyes shut as I burrowed my head into her chest. Her warmth always quelled the nightmares. It’s almost as if her arms are wrapped around me right now, a lullaby hummed into my ear and tempting my eyelids shut, unaware. But on the edge of counting sheep I am jolted awake by the roar of a titan wave.

Caught between longing to sleep and longing to survive, several times I have been taken by my mother’s voice and returned to salt in my mouth. My little light still beams. Please don’t run out, little light, I have something to live for, please…

🎧⏯️ 'Under Ice'

A dull pounding sounds, like a pulse. Until my vision clears, I realise the pounding comes from me, my legs propel me over a blinding white surface. They glide and pierce into the glacial plane. The air is cold, biting at my cheeks, but it isn’t threatening, not all consuming, it’s pleasant. Trees speed past me, a flurry of frosted branches. I can hear myself laugh, echoed and muffled, as I spin and every time I turn I see a man watching as he stands on the snowy ground. His lips are stretched into a smile too, warm and loving, eyes narrowed and lines with happiness, but I have no recollection of who this man is,  my mind is as plain as the ice I skate on. But he is beautiful. He is sunlight, he is an anchor, he is a lifeboat. I shout something over to him, a hand beckoning him over, to which he shakes his head good-naturedly. So I continue to skate, the dust of winter left behind my silver heels. The glitter of the frozen lake takes my focus, each particle the same yet still as pretty as the last but–