If you find yourself unable to sleep, and the void of the black sky calls out to you, you must accept that it will forever be out of your reach. But this does not mean that there are no available alternatives.
You must don your robe, and light your candle. Let its red light illuminate the world. The more superstitious and sleepless of your village may think you a malicious spirit, as they peer through their hardwood shutters. Don’t mind them, for they lack the initiative to follow the void’s calling. You will walk for miles, but you will find your destination before the sun returns from his rest.
At that place, where the ground is softer, you will see the dying flame of your melting candle reflect back at you from the calm waters. There are still waves, but they are small, for the sea cannot yet fully conceal how nervous it is.
It is in that place where you will blow out your candle. Breathe in the scent of smoke, and whale oil. Watch as the waters turn black in the fresh darkness. And feel again the calling of the void. It screams to you, not from above, but from below.
Place your foot in the water, then feel how dry it is when you lift it. Yes, it is cold, but it isn’t real unless you drink it. Take off your robe, fold it up nicely, and place it with the candle in a spot you will remember. Then walk slowly into the sea, until the peaks of the short waves brush against your knees. Take a deep breath, and dive into the darkness.
The cold will envelop your head, finally quieting the call. But you know it won’t cease completely until you reach the heart of the ocean. So you must swim. You must swim for hours until your muscles grow exhausted. But you must not open your eyes, for the sun might have risen by now, and the illusion of the void would shatter. Keep swimming, until your arms move no longer, and the metal of your bones begins to pull you into the depths. You might resist, but soon you must breathe in the water, and succumb to a new darkness.
That’s when you will be saved. Not by the boats that sail from port to port trading. Not by the whale who grieves for her murdered friend whose light guided you here. But by the shark who pains and thinks. You will be returned to the surface, but you won’t yet awake. Your hands will grasp your new friend’s dorsal fin, and you will be carried for days which you will not remember.
When night falls upon the world once again, and you approach the core of the sea, you will be fed a slug, and awaken. The screaming call will finally end in your mind. You will tread for a moment in these waters, as you bid farewell to your friend. Below you rests the shell of a stone that once held the liquified body of the creature that created these worlds. Beside that, lies the disk that spawned this sea. And around you, swims the one who is blessed and cursed by each creature who touches these waters. I swim here, patiently waiting for your arrival.
It does not yet confuse you, how such a magnificent capacity for thought is compacted into me, for you are not yet aware that this fish is a god. But I will glow, and approach your arms, and you will gaze upon me in amazement, for I am a light that punctures the darkness.
“Hello there little fish” You will say. I find it funny that you will speak to me before you know I can respond.
I position my fins, and sign back to you, “Hello there big person.”
I let the surprise overcome you, and pause before asking you a question. This is the reason I called out to you. This is why you are here.
“Who gave you your robe?”
As I expected, it was a friend or a relative, who handed it down to you after they had outgrown it. So a crab approaches you, and anchors itself on your back. I sign not to worry, but you hate the way its spidery legs feel against your skin.
Your fear is proven appropriate when the crab digs five of its legs into your skin, stabilising itself with its other five. It begins carving them across your back, drawing burning lines across its canvas. You scream, but it goes unheard. The sound blends in with the calls the others are following. You flail your arms behind your back, trying to shake the beast off. Your head goes underwater. You grasp onto a leg. It is cold and hard. You yank on it. And for a moment, hope returns, as the crab shifts, anchoring itself in a new position. You feel around, reaching for another leg, but a sharp pain consumes your hand as your index, middle, and ring fingers are crushed, and ripped from your hand.
You kick, trying to get your head above water. You grab onto the bleeding stubs where your fingers were a moment ago. The pain radiates from across your arm. The crab is tracing lines across your back again. The five sharp and burning points that punctured through your skin dance across it.
The crab detaches itself, and prepares for the next human, now having locked on to your scent. It will fetch the robe you placed on the beach when I instruct it to. You are placed on a floating platform, where you will be kept alive until your robe is found. It is not worth the effort to return you home.
But as you lie on the platform, dry, and cold. You can watch as the sun rises, and let his magnificent red light blind you. Let his warmth wash over your body. You can call to the god liquid inside of him, and hope it might one day be used to create a world where your suffering won’t be necessary.
"a world where your suffering won’t be necessary"