Dents

[+] Plastic Beach

The boat sat in the backyard of the house in Essex, suffocated by weeds and overgrowth, longing for the salted air of the sea. It cried out for a true challenge, a voyage with no destination.

I've been floating out here so long, I'm quite sure I've gone mad. 

I resolved to abandon everything. I was prepared to forfeit my life to the limitless expanse of the tides if it meant I could feel a modicum of peace. My life had long since dissolved into a messy blur of pain. It had all gotten to be too much. I could not withstand it for another minute.

In truth, I was more lost on land than I ever was out on the water. I was tied up in the endlessly tangled strings of life, the world, and my place within it all. I was ready to be free at whatever the cost.

Lots of things are different when you're out alone in a place as barren as the ocean. Nothing matters.

Everything makes sense. Nothing makes sense.

Where am I?

I was startled from my daze by a harsh jolt. The boat rattled, its flimsy structure creaking uneasily. There were gaps between a couple of the wooden panels which allowed a small deposit of water to gather in the hull. Sections of my hair were perpetually wet. It was impossible to lie down without submerging part of myself in the process.

Frustrated, I sat up. I quickly gathered that the boat had stopped for a good reason. By some miracle, I reached land. However, something wasn't right.

Everything was pink.

Off to the west, or what I believed to be west, two silhouettes stood shadowed by the sunset. A man and a child scavenged through the muck. They yelled to one another. Their voices were too distant to discern any clear speech.

Rays of light glittered on the ragged coast, the hue as vibrant as the orange of a spilled soda can, dripping color into the divots of the landscape. It filled each trash laden crater with sugar and stickiness, like the humid air of late summer.

As bizarrely captivating a sight it was, the odor was putrid. It was akin to the stench of coffee and garbage left to burn.

I hadn't expected to reach land at all when I ran away. I figured I'd dehydrate in due course, starving slowly while going mad all the same.

Some of that had happened.

Yet, it was in that very moment when I made my first nervous foothold ashore, that I remembered what it felt like to want to live.

I needed water.

I stumbled overboard. My plan, if you could call it that, was simple. I would approach the distant figures of this foreign place and figure out the rest when I got there.

I took a careful step forward. Just as I was thinking to myself how surprisingly sturdy the terrain was, I sunk thigh deep in sewage. The compacted litter was volatile enough to collapse beneath me.

"Aah! Shit! What is this - "

I restrained an urge to vomit, though it was tempting. I couldn't risk losing any more water. Another lurch inland got me to somewhat solid ground before the exhaustion set in. I realized I couldn't get up.

Demoralized, I lay there in the rubbish, collecting my thoughts and losing them again. Eventually, I blacked out.

I woke unpleasantly to a steel toe boot in my side. A thin Asian girl looked me over. Her eyes skirted me up and down, analyzing. She studied me. Evidently, she was trying to determine if I was a threat.

"Well? C'mon already, is she a live one?"

She turned to the source of the voice. It belonged to a tall, messy man. He was dressed in a soiled captain's coat and stunk of liquor. He had greasy black hair. His skin was alike to both the color and texture of a rotting avocado. What a foul looking creature, I thought, but was quickly interrupted by the boot returning to my ribs. The girl nodded in the affirmative.