Where The Wild Things Are [Continuation]

6| THE WAVES

6| THE WAVES

            NO matter how terrified he was he knew that he had to go back to the Island. He was obviously brought back here for a reason. His thoughts drifted to his latest dream. What if there really were other kids on the Island? Trapped, like he was?

            The thought caused his stomach to clench, but he shoved it down and ignored it as best he could. He savaged his brain for memories of his previous time here. Some parts were hazy, others were mushed together and some were just sprawled all over the place.

            But the one memory that was crystal clear would have to be the boat ride there. The countless waves, the empty feeling of departing this island and pushing off into the unknown. The weakening of muscles and the long dragged day that in this universe would have been ten.

            A light sweat broke out on his forehead, the Sun now simmering to early morning. He took a deep breath, and looked around the beach as if to say goodbye. Then with all his remaining strength he began to push the boat outward into the sea.

           

*

           

He had forgotten the smell of salt that stained the air. It stung his nostrils, and made his lips dry. He heaved a sigh as he hung off the edge of the boat, seeing the island shrink with distance. The farther he sailed out, the emptier he felt. He couldn’t pinpoint why, he just did. He tore his eyes away from the, now speck, of land and turned toward the endless sea. The wind tore through his hair and the waves began to pick up pace, as if sensing the urgency in his thoughts.

            He looked back one last time to see that the there was nothing left to look back to, only the vast ocean spreading out in all directions. Making him feel even more alone.

            He then stood up, the Sun now planted in the middle of the sky, it beating down on him, causing him to sweat. But he held his ground as the waves carried him along, the waves splashing against the boat and each other, causing drops of ocean to soak into his clothes. For some reason this exhilarated him.

             Gradually, a huge grin stretched out his mouth and he let out a holler of glee. For that moment he disbanded all the bad things that were weighing him down. He pushed them away because he had a sudden epiphany that it didn’t matter; none of it mattered because he wasn’t even in that world anymore.

            He was somewhere amongst the stars waiting to be wished upon.

 *

That attitude quickly began to fade as the waves got even rougher, smacking on the sides of his brittle boat, the sail already starting to get soaked. His stomach sour with nausea as the Sun began to dip toward the sea. Night was nearing.

            As if the Sun were his good thoughts and morale, they drowned, dying with the light, and the dark sky up above replaced his once good thoughts with horrors from his worst nightmares.

            The monsters, his self-doubt, everything he tried to repress for so long, finally catching up with him in one big blow. He could just throw himself off this measly boat and drown into the sea, along with the Sun. No one was there to stop him.

            Though for some odd reason he refrained from doing so. He stayed planted on the boat as the merciless waves kept tossing it around, at some points causing him to lose his balance and be thrown against the floor.

            The next thing he knew he was clutching something tightly in his arms as the boat rocked back and forth, making his stomach twist in discomfort. He tried to even his breathing as his back was pressed against one of the walls, his legs drawn to his chest. 

            Rain suddenly assailed upon him, and a rumble of thunder was heard off in the near distance. He suddenly felt weak, drained. He attempted to drift off multiple times, but the rocking of the boat was unstable, it had no rhythm, it caused him to sway and fall over.  He heard another crack of thunder and a flash of light, closer.

            I’m going to die, he thought.

            He was so sure of it. He was so sure that he was going to die in the middle of the sea, soaked in water, frozen to the bone . . . alone.

              Spikes stabbed his forearms. He winced as he looked down. He hadn’t realized he was holding the crown, grasping it so tightly that it broke his skin and caused blood to seep out. He loosened his grip as the boat tossed, and glanced down at the metal hat.

            The tip of three of the spikes was stained red. He took the crown in his shaking hands and slipped it on his head. Staring aimlessly as the rough waves rocked the boat, and ice-cold rain pelted down on him.

            Tears mingled with the rain and ocean. The sound of the slapping waves masking the sobs of the boy lost at sea.