HOWEVER, little did we know the seas we were about to enter; from those, we would never return. It is a strange tale to tell, even stranger to believe in.

There is music here. We may not hear it but we feel it all the time. We see movement, such that, the eyes relay but the brain is unable to make sense of. The closest we can compare this, is to dreaming in a bathtub with thick water running down – in a slow, slimy waterfall – at the rim. The visuals are unusual to most but some say they have '’felt’ it before'. There are six of us, the rest, all nine of them have not been seen nor heard from since we entered the seas.

The walls are reflective; they are not mirrors but close. These walls have holes in them, of almost two inches in diameter; peep holes. If we look through them we can see and then ‘be’ anywhere we want to be, even ‘Ancient Earth’, as it is called here (or thought of, perhaps) can be visited at any point in our time before we crossed over into the seas. We are there; yet the feeling is that of, again, being submerged in thick, crystal water. We feel by thinking, not the other way around like back home.

It does not feel like a dream; does not even come as close as a continent to what we are experiencing. Yes, things are pretty unusual and distant but this is real, an alternate reality, as real as death.

We have not been given any food or water, mainly because whoever runs this flower joint knows that we do not feel human urges anymore. We are never hungry nor do we want water. We do not sleep and neither do we emit fluids from our bodies, which have aged a little since we checked into Heart Break Hotel.

We do not know and neither do we recall the number of days it has been since the seas took us into their womb. Interestingly, possibly even boringly we see each other as ourselves. We have conversations, we argue, we get angry and edgy.

Vanity is in abundance but only to hide from ourselves; it probably scares us to look ourselves in the eye, our own bloody eyes. We fight ourselves to enjoy the sensation. We do not feel pain, instead we feel confused and nostalgic whenever we get smashed in the face with a seaman’s fist like ours, by one of ourselves. 

Although we can tell the passage of time because of the crow feet that have appeared at the sides of some pair of eyes, others have lost hair. This would mean that a large amount of time has gone by but we feel as if it were only a week or two since the fateful crossing.

We went to our childhood house earlier today, this evening? Who knows? It was the same, just as we remembered it all through these years. There were no people there, no one, just us and the rush of memories that may not even be ours.

Physical likeness is not the only thing we have in common; we also share each others’ minds. Sometimes we are unable to tell ourselves from the other and it is then that the Sheriff ain't in town and the deputies get shot. There is no other consciousness, but one; ours.

Names do not matter anymore because the words that come out of our mouths are gibberish. And that might as well be, we’re always facing each other, sometime our heads lowered as we look emptily at our aging hands. The one thing that bothers us most, other than the AWOL id, is waking up.

We don’t feel the need to sleep and we do not sleep as said earlier, however we do wake up from something. At once we are visiting the emptiness of a house where a little girl lives and suddenly we ‘wake up’. It is like a bump and a jerk and that cotton mouth feeling. Every time this happens we cannot tell who it was or maybe the fear that runs amongst all of us is that of not being. Therefore we take count, every time, as if it were a ritual.

One is missing.

We cannot feel some of our thought patterns, entire loops have simply disappeared. This continues as we see ourselves in wonderment and horror, the horror of not having any memory at all. The absence of even a single set of memories could take away everything. As we are and watching the others we begin to realise we do not know where our houses are and then how did we get here? What is this godforsaken place?

***

‘What in the Lord's name is happening?’ A tall well-built man, about forty eight maybe fifty, screamed against the rain and the wind and the roar of the furious sea. He stood at the hull and hugged the metailc bow with all his might. The sea rocked the reefer as if it were a paper boat. The ship would jump and then strike down with massive force. All along the man held on to the white bow on the otherwise black and red vessel.

He carefully checked if his wireless was still with him. It was. ‘Can anyone hear me? This is The Charlotte. Over.’ He heard crackle instead and changed frequency with one hand. The other was hooked around the bow in an intimate hug.

‘Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.’

‘Will someone please come-in for heaven’s sake? Come in? Come in you fuckers, we have lost crew and the boat is a founder, over.'

Crackle

'The Charlotte, a reefer bound towards Aruba, repeat Aruba, Indiaanskop; we are ten and twenty six north and sixty and forty eight west; Over.

‘Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Ten and twenty six north, sixty and forty eight west, this vessel is a founder… Aruba… .' He shouted into the radio with desperation and panic waltzing in his head, however the long years at sea had kept him standing amidst the madness and the wrath that Mother Nature cast upon him and The Charlotte. The sky was black and he could see lightening at the horizon. The reefer had lost all power, leaving him hanging on to the bow in complete darkness and rain and the seismic tremors of the boat. 'Mayday, Mayday, Mayday...'

Some more crackle and the music changed to Faerie's Aire and Death Waltz.

‘Mayday, Mayday, Mayday… Aruba, this is…’ A waved crashed directly into him and the radio went flying towards the stern, he lost balance and slipped. His head smashed into the thick metallic bow and he was flung inwards towards the bulkhead near the starboard. He lay unconscious between the starboard and the midships.

He came to when another gigantic wave hit the left side of The Charlotte. He tried to reach for the halliard but it slipped and he went flying over the edge of the boat, he tried to recall the face of his child while being jettisoned into absolute darkness.