Sea Monster [Brant Standalone]

No matter where he went in this place, however far he wandered, he could never get away from it. The place where he lived was based so heavily upon the one thing he feared the most that it was as though it was stuck to him with super glue – each time he attempted to pull away it would remain, but now he was raw and sore.

He swore the water was out to get him. No matter where he went it was there, creeping closer to lap at his ankles like a stray dog. It didn’t help that he was continually drawn to it, in that way that someone with a fear of heights would be drawn to a cliff’s edge, leaning over what he knew would kill him. The danger of it, the fear, was the set of icy claws that always hooked him back again. He was a fish on a line, caught on a one way trip towards the end – only he was being dragged into the water and not out of it.

The ocean spit at him, frustrated that he wasn’t giving in, showing him the rage that he feared so much. It grew like a monster before him, all drool and foam and white-capped teeth. He could see each bone of its wave-worn hands, chilling him as thoroughly as the spray that leapt from the rocks. The watery, salty cliff leered at him, beckoning him with a crooked finger. He almost screamed when it nibbled at his feet, fleeing backwards in an attempt to escape. It had nearly gotten him then, in his lapse of attention, it had nearly reeled him in.

As the person who fears heights backs away from the cliff edge, reassured that his fear is reasonable, so he backed away from the water’s edge. He was foolish, letting himself be drawn back again and again, over and over, tumbled like driftwood in the ocean surf. Each time he clawed his way to dray land, free from the ocean’s pull, he was hurled back in again by the waves.

It would grab him by the ankles and pull him in, pressing his head below the surface until he couldn’t hold his breath any longer. He gasped, taking in the salty air too quickly and leaving him choking. It took him a couple deep breaths before he had steadied his breathing again, scowling at the rocks at his feet. When another wave approached he scampered back even further, to where the rocks were larger and rougher. It was always the same with him, always this overwhelming need to stay away, but always some stupid reason to come back. He could never be free.