Under Water

The light on the goldfish and copper pennies struck her longing more deeply than it had been touched in ages. Theresa was at the Self Realization Fellowship Center in California and she didn't even know what that meant. But sitting there with the fish and the light and the illuminated water she realized it didn't matter. Theresa wished she could live under water. Some water, somewhere. There must be great things in dark water, she thought. A terror ran through her, but an excitement too. A world of sea creatures, of mermaid lore, of The Return. The return to what? To before we were humans – back to when we were glowing green spines with eyes that could see in the dark. Back to when there was no "please" or "thank you" – just instinct and desire and survival and fuck. She could feel the ache and urge in her body to dive into a muddy water. A world of story, of imagination, of theatre down below. Maybe there would be love? Not the stuff of fairytales – but of insane, pull-you-apart sort of love. Forbidden love realized under water. Against the backdrop of seaweed and shark egg sacs. Sharks. She had forgotten about the trail of sharks that had followed her throughout her life, in dreams, mostly. Not here, not in this pond, obviously. But still, she had forgotten how much being in water actually scared her. As a child, insisting on wearing goggles in the bathtub with a pretty substantial stone from the backyard placed over the drain just in case anything decided to come up. And if any creatures did grab her, she at least, because of the goggles, would be able to see where they were taking her. Today though, the desire to be in the mystery of what lay dark and unknown was thicker than the fear of sharks. Come and get me you fucking monsters. Tear at me, rip me limb from limb. I dare you. At least I will have explored the depths. At least I will have lived, touched, been in the story, tasted the wild imagination, been embraced by wicked love in the dark...