A splash of water brought me out of my thoughts. The boat shook, hit by a strong wave. The salty taste lingered on my tongue, and in the distance, I could see even stronger waves.

Ignoring the waves to the boat's captain, I made way for my room. Having spilled water twice in a row, I needed to change my shirt. I could see my skin reddening, and an itch growing on my chest; a petty consequence of wearing wet clothes for too long.

Walking back into my room, I first checked for my original shirt. A tattered web of linen which I had discarded to the corner of the room earlier. It was still wet and unfit for wear.

‘I’m officially out of shirts!’ I declared, amused. This reminded me of my closet full of obnoxious and pompous shirts back in Cipetel.

‘Oh, how the mighty have fallen.’ But this was fine too, I could stay inside and practice while my borrowed shirt dried. But if nothing goes your way, something worse is coming.

And it came in the form of a rumble, a gluttonous hunger from my stomach and I sympathized with the saying -“I could eat a horse.”

‘Hahh, I guess I’ll get some food first.’ Hurrying, I went out and back in the salon, and into the dinner hall. Fortunately, I was earlier, not many people were still around for lunch. I quickly scooped a bunch of different tasty-looking stuff, without really caring for what I picked, and all stacked in a leaning pisa of food, hurried back into my room.

Without spilling the food. Except for that one unlucky pea.

Carefully placing it atop the table, I changed out of my shirt and got right into devouring that food. It was honestly delicious, and as I realized later on, quite greasy.

And I had taken too much. Oops.

But I was determined not to waste, and with indigestion just around the corner, finally stuffed the final pea in my mouth. Spread eagled, I lay on my bed, yawning. Every action felt puke-inducing, and I decided I deserved a few more hours of sleep.

Having been through a couple nightmares, far too frequently, I think I could sleep for longer. Out of clothes, except the one boxer I had bought with me, I lay in my bed and slowly the curtains closed and I was lost in the dark backstage.

- - - * - - -

I opened eyes to the sight of floating fish and bubbles. The sight of a passing bubble-fish sent me tumbling back, but I could not fall. I realized I too was swimming, breathing in the water and letting out bubbles as I sank deeper and deeper.

I looked up, not panicked anymore. Not drowning in water for the first time? Count me in always!

The sheet of water separating the sky from us was faint and bright. It was high above me, and I questioned the physics of light this deep underwater. The water around me was silent, or maybe I couldn’t hear anything.

Looking around, I tried to make sense of the situation.

‘It’s the 3rd time.’ Of waking up underwater, but at least I’m not drowning. After a few more moments of looking at the bubble fish, I finally had the clarity of mind to make sense of things again.

‘How should I get out now…’

I felt for within myself. The mist was still there, and I found something weird. It was in my veins, in my bones, in my lungs, channels through which breathe, and through my eyeballs. It had a rough texture, and it felt like a bee on my eye.

It was the one hair fall you can’t get out of your mind.

And my focus was instantly concentrated on getting it out. But I did not know how to. It enveloped me to such a deep form, that mutilation seemed like the only option. Nails dug, and sand flowed.

It flowed through the water and then dropped, its bright blue glowing like an ice skater descending from a lutz jump. I finally saw below and realized why I was drowning more and more.

There was a whirlpool. A forbidden giant, and it was trying to eat me.

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The whirlpool extended beyond my vision, and I saw no hope for survival. Yet I felt calm. Perhaps a part of me has just gotten too desensitized to such situations, or maybe I recognized the futility of resistance.

Instead, I inspected the whirlpool with fascination. I had dreamed of going down a black hole after learning of one, and maybe this is not the worst replacement.

I drew nearer and the fear finally came knocking. It’s often harder when you are actually facing death in the eye. And I saw something more than just that.

There were souls.

At least I believed they were. Twisted, grotesque, monstrous even; but there were souls. Clawing upwards, resisting, crawling through the water even, and they seemed to succeed.

I wondered what do they claw against, and what do they hope to achieve.

Do they want revenge, or is it something more? Maybe they too wanna live forever, or maybe it’s something less.

As I neared, I saw them properly. They were green in color, and it reminded me of a conversation I had with my wife.

“Why do you think ghosts should be green?”

She had said in her it’s-obvious-I’m-so-dumb-to-not-understand expression “It’s cause they are envious of the ones who live.”

And she had proven her wisdom once again. I winced in pain as the memories of her hurt more than anything. I wanted to be there, to just keep looking at her face, to never forget it as I recited her my adventures.

I don’t think she’d believe me, but it was okay. I would be happy if she’s just excited about my story and can appreciate it. This whole debacle can stay as a story for all I care.

And it ignited something. A hope for survival, something I had not realized I was starting to lose. When have I become so pessimistic and nihilistic? I can do better. I would do much better.

Aggrieved at the unfairness, I struggled.

Calling for the brush within me, it materialized in my left hand, while I felt my right hand disappear. I had no time to care for it, as I raced against time to come up with a way to escape.

Mist as an element sounds great, but gets floored easily when faced against powers of such a calamity level. The dislike towards my mist surfaced, but I easily squashed it.

I thought hard and fast as I neared the jaws of the whirlpool.

The souls finally noticed me and converged as my eyes widened at this scene. I felt the kiss of death so near me, but it never landed. A hand swatted it away. The same hand tightened around my wrist and pulled me.

I looked up, and it was the souls which pulled me up. They seemed to be helping me, but something about a bunch of ugly-looking monsters didn’t soothe my ghost-o-phobia.

For a moment I believed I’d survive, but then the slow crawl towards the whirlpool reminded me of the cold fact: they can’t help themselves, much less me.

I had to do something in the end. And I mulled over my powers. A weird realization at the corner of my eye, but I can’t seem to see it in the eye.

What was mist?

Mist was the tiny water droplets suspended in the air when a warm current carrying water meets a colder current, or vice-versa.

So a mist is basically composed of water, hot air, and cold air. And if I can control the combined element, then it stands to reason I should hold some sway over the other elements as well.

The mist within me stirred at the realization. A switch went off somewhere, and when I looked back inside, it was like seeing for the first time.

The mist was no longer a unique, continuous, single entity. No! It looked like a chemical reaction, between two gases unfolding in a time loop. The warm and cold gasses collided to create something grey and then the process repeated.

There was no water involved, and I understood the reasoning. Water never comes alone, it’s always with either of the currents.

But it was fine for now. I had what I wanted.

I concentrated on the brush, and this tried to bring out the cold air. It proved difficult. Maybe I was just not attuned to it as the mist. But it has to work. And so I poured every bit of the coldness in me within the brush.

The hollowness stretched within me; it made me wanna cry and stop resisting. But it was still better, better than last time.

But it was not enough. The brush in my hand felt cold, bone-chillingly cold, yet it was not cold enough. It wasn’t cold enough to freeze the waters. It was not cold enough to give me the chance to escape this hell.

But I had no time for despair.

A ginormous will descended upon me in that instant. It was vaster than every mountain I had witnessed, larger than life, and greater than the deepest of chasms.

But it felt…. childish? Immature? Happy?

My throat ran dry and my heart stopped beating as my body moved on its own. Slowly I saw myself disappear.

My legs, my waist, my chest, and eventually everything until all that was left was my head, being tightly held by the souls. The brush in front of me radiated a chill I could never imagine.

It radiated power and promised an ice age.

And slowly it released that hell.

Cold air spun around the whirlpool, and I gawked in disbelief as the giant of a vacuum was slowly eroded away. Its edges slowed. Eventually, it came to a halt. Covered completely in ice, it looked like a giant popsicle, I mused.

The souls holding me too stopped. Everything around me had come to a giant full stop.

And as I marveled at this spectacle, the will again descended upon me. It held me by the throat, and snapped.

- - - * - - -

I woke up gasping, feeling a hand on my neck as I choked on air. It seemed to have become a routine, waking up choking.

Passing the fingers through my neck, I felt the phantom pain of being strangled. Of having your neck snapped and the pain as it happens. The crack of a bone in your neck you don’t know about as your life is instantly snuffed away.

Taking long and large breaths, I calmed myself; but the feeling of hand on my neck never went away.

I was back in my room, on the boat. The moonlight filtering through the window told me of the time, and I heaved a sigh of relief.

I am alive. I am not drowning. I am alive. I am not drowning.

- - - - * - - - -