TITANIC

APRIL 15, 2012.

My soul still sits beside the wreck of the Titanic. It gets lost in the dark little by little, inch by inch, as the big iron rusts peacefully. The loneliness, the darkness, the coldness feed onto my soul. You might think there must be too much chaos made by the waves, but it's rather still. Nothing moves, nothing speaks except for the sound of silence. The silence gave me a lot of time to think. Think about how I ended up here. You see, souls have the tendency to forget about the traumatizing event that caused them to leave the body in the first place.

The night my soul and my body parted ways, I cried. I cried a lot. My body was lying in front of me, eyes and mouth wide open, bruises around the neck, around the wrist. My pale orange nightgown. My long ginger curls. Water seeping into my lungs, my heart, my stomach. And a pocket watch, tangled within my fingers, touching the ocean's bed.

I stared at that watch for days. It looked familiar, yet I wasn't quite able to place it. Like how after waking up, you think you know a dream, yet are not able to tell what it was. Inside the watch was a picture of me and a man. He looked like I knew him, but then again, I couldn't recall. It's been a hundred years now. During this century, I saw a lot of things, I thought about a lot of things. I saw my body rot; I saw my body get eaten up by the aquatic fauna. If you ask me why I didn't leave this place, I must tell you in order for me to leave, I have to break the emotional roots that are tying me up to this place. I wanted to go out, I wanted to reincarnate and forget all about this cold suffering. Some nights, I used to roam around the giant Titanic. It's so huge and beautiful. Although the memories are getting lost beneath the layer of rust. The night I died was the same night the Titanic accompanied me. I devoured its beauty. The accommodations were luxurious as well as spacious. I remember one night I entered a room; it had a picture of a little girl. She looked so familiar. I knew I was related to her; I knew I was there on this ferry before, but then again, I was not sure. Beneath the bed in there was a necklace, a broken necklace with pearls all over the floor. It was all too much for me, so I left and never dared to go back again.

They say good things take time. For me, it took a hundred years. A century later, on the night of my death anniversary, I was lying in the same place my body did for the first and the last time. I had that pocket watch still with me. I opened the watch and stared at that picture for hours, and then it happened. Memories rushing back in pieces.

His name was Cornel. I was his Judith. He was the sky; I was the moon. Without each other, we were nothing but like a poem without words. He was the reason my heart used to beat. He used to write me letters, bring me flowers, and paint me all night long. One day he asked me to take his last name. To be in his arms forever, and within a heartbeat, I said yes.

For our honeymoon, we boarded a giant ship, The Titanic. Before the boat sailed, Cornel asked for my presence on the upper deck. He handed me a present. "Don't open it now," he said. My eyes gleamed. I kissed him; he tasted like musty rum. His breath reeked of smoke. "He's been doing it again," I thought to myself. You might not be aware of the fact that despite the noble man Cornel was, he was a dipsomaniac. "Cornel, you drank again, didn't you?" I cried. "I am on vacation, dear," he pleaded.

The following evening, we joined the others for supper. He was still drinking. I ignored him and left the dining area, and went straight to my room. There on the dresser was a picture of me when I was a little girl. I loved that picture. It was of Thanksgiving, my apologies, the best Thanksgiving.

While getting ready for bed, I slipped into my pale orange nightgown. There on the mattress was the present that Cornel gave me that afternoon. I took the little box and opened it. It was a pocket watch with a picture of us on our wedding day inside. The door slammed open, and something fell. It sounded like little things pounding themselves for freedom. I turned; it was Cornel. He had tripped over the nightstand and broken my pearl necklace which my mother gave me. His eyes were bloodshot red, gleaming at me. He was angry. He was drunk.

"Sweetheart, is something wrong?" I asked. "YOU, YOU FILTHY WENCH!" he shouted. My eyes pooled with tears. "You are not in your right mind, Cornel," I cried. He took a step towards me; I took a step back until I was up against the wall. He came closer to me. His eyes looked like a sun that was about to set. His breath reeked of rum. He grabbed my neck, and my body grasped for breath. I was shouting, crying for help, but no one could hear me, for the unsinkable ship was sinking, and so was my heart. He took my wrist in his hands and clenched it with all the strength in the world. I grabbed a lamp and hit him on the head. He fell on the bed, and I ran. I ran through people trying to save themselves. I, too, was saving myself from the monster I was married to. Little did I know that monster was chasing me. I ran to the top deck where he gave me the present. I turned around, and there he was again. He took a step towards me; I took a step back until I met the end of the ship. He came closer and whispered something I can't remember. I was so afraid at that moment and clenching that watch which I realized was in my hands this whole time.

It's funny how only a matter of seconds can either make you or destroy you. In that moment, the boat sank a little more, and I slipped. My whole body was in shock, including me. The ocean consumed me. It all happened so fast, but if you ask me, it felt like hours. While I was falling, I reached out for his hand but couldn't find it. As my body made contact with the cold sea, I saw his face for the last time. It was covered in blood from our little incident in the room. His eyes were gleaming in the dark. And his lips were stretched out in a wide smile. The water started entering my nose, my eyes were shutting, and I grew more and more distant from the boat until I touched the bed of the ocean and laid there forever.

It's been a hundred years now. As I said, I had a lot of time to think. The boat did sink, my feet did slip that night. But I didn't fall. I was pushed, pushed by the sky to my moon. He wasn't angry because of something I did. He was angry because the ferry hit the iceberg and was on its way down to the deep dark ocean. He just expressed his anger by killing me.