by Darius Lee

Day 1:

I find myself here off the coast of Deliverance Island, Australia. It had taken a great deal to make my way here, having heard from others about the beauty of this place. Apparently, it’s paradise – palm trees, greenish-blue water, a quiet little slice of paradise in a world that is changing at a dizzying rate. As I recall, I was on my daily swim before I stopped upon witnessing a large crowd of seven advancing towards me. A particularly bubbly individual approached closer, and then proceeded to speak. 

“Do you perhaps know the way to Paradise?” 

“‘Paradise’?”

“Paradise. Deliverance Island?” 

“I’m sorry, but why are you referring to Deliverance Island as ‘Paradise’?” 

The crowd seemed to have a visible reaction to this. 

“You don’t know? Deliverance Island is supposed to be paradise! The lads up north have been buzzing on and on about it. Supposedly, one guy went there a few moons ago, and has been preaching about how terribly heaven-like that place is.”

This fellow seemed quite enthusiastic about this particular topic. Having had no exposure to this “Paradise” situation regarding Deliverance Island, I could not help but remain puzzled. Deliverance Island had always been nearby, yet never a place that came across your mind. 

“It’s further down south.” 

The crowd thanked me and then headed on their way. 

Following this particular incident, the word “Paradise” had come up a lot more often. I must clarify that despite being so close to Deliverance Island, I have never once set fin on its coast. I have never seen it, nor has anyone ever mentioned it before, and thus I suppose I could not exactly rebuke their point. However, even months after this topic had been brought up, it still lingers among my thoughts. Despite being amidst schools of fishes flocking towards this “Paradise”, I never saw the importance of ever journeying there, but yet I could not shake the thought of its supposed sights. 

And now I find myself here. Unfortunately, I had only arrived after the sun had set. As such, I had difficulty making out anything in view. After feeling the unsettling brush of what was perhaps kelp,  I decided to retire for the night and await what beheld me tomorrow.

Day 2: 

Strange things seem to be encroaching the edge of my view. After somewhat troubled slumber, I awoke an hour or so ago. Perhaps it had been my state of confusion upon awakening, but I had not the slightest idea of where I exactly was. There seemed to be peculiar tentacle-like walls that were intertwined with each other on the horizon. This surprised me, for such sights were certainly not expected. I had been sure that I had already arrived at Deliverance Island, however, I found it difficult to actually point out any evidence that I was on Deliverance Island. As such, I decided to take a swim around to perhaps deduce where exactly I was. 

As I continued on, a silhouette had formed right at the edge of the present murky underwater haze, close enough for me to make out its fish-like shape, but not enough to approach it. Perhaps I had done wrong by proceeding to call it out for help, considering my current situation, but the silhouette had completely disappeared from view in the next second, as though a ghost. 

There seemed to be no luck on my side the rest of the day, as that had been the last fish contact I experienced. Desperate, I scanned my environments for the last time. It seemed as though the wall of tentacles seemed to be getting closer, along with the murkiness of the water that it obscured my vision. It was at this point that I could not stop thinking about the wall. . It was all-surrounding, never ending. As though a jail cell, it entrapped and enclosed my heart, suffocating it. 

Day 3: 

The remaining events of yesterday remain unclear to me. I do not recall what I had done after staring into the distant wall-like amalgamation. Perhaps I tried to venture closer towards it, trying to figure out exactly what it was. I am unsure.

When I had awakened, I found myself panting for breath. Gasping, choking. It felt like a fist shoved down my throat. On the verge of tears, I reflexively vomited, yet nothing came out. And this reminded me; I had not had anything to eat the previous day. As such, I decided to look for food before anything else. 

After hours of swimming, evading floating debris, , I had found absolutely nothing. Not only was the seabed  unbelievably horrid, being filled with random hard, sharp objects that sliced and tentacle-like strands that pulled and tugged, but it also seemed to be playing tricks on me. Everytime I found what I thought to be food, the moment I bit down on it, my mouth was instead filled with only a sharp pain and the taste of my own blood. Otherwise, it would be small bits of what I believed to be food scraps, only turning out to be small inedible objects that caused me to choke and barely catch my breath. 

My food expedition was an utter failure, I didn’t know what else to do. At every breathing moment, the wall haunted me. The fear was inexplicable. I was all alone, with only my thoughts to comfort me. Yet I could only think of the wall. Perhaps, a ‘wall’ isn’t the best descriptor. It was more like being trapped in a domain, a twisted maze with strands that surrounded everything, including the sky, making it all the harder to see. For my sake, I will continue to call it a wall, for I know not what to call this horror. 

Despite my further depressing thoughts about this resource-scarce prison, in the heat of my hunger and desperation, I settled on this conclusion: I would have to break through the wall. It was clear that this was my only option, with my entire surroundings being only the wall, and inside it – a graveyard, where I would inevitably die. 

Day 4:

I started on the journey immediately after sunrise (not that it helped much, with the tentacles blocking off most light). Along my arduous voyage, I saw more and more of these tentacle monsters, that sometimes seemed to be grasping on to random white and pointy sticks. I could have gone closer to examine them, yet something just reeked of death that prevented me from approaching any further. 

Now I seem to be approaching the wall. Words cannot describe this dread I feel. 

…

The wall looms. It is an amalgamation of tentacles. My heart cannot help but beat rapidly at this unknown. Yet, inevitable death spurs me on. 

I burst through the first layer. A lot of struggling and tugging is required, and a portion of my fin is torn. But I moved on. 

The second layer. My fins are almost completely ravaged, my scales all scrapped off. But I moved on. 

The third layer. Is the wall endless? The tentacles tighten around my chest, my lungs, but luckily I break free. And still, I press on

Now comes the fourth layer. I exhale deeply, narrowing my body as far as possible to squeeze through the crevices. I see a glimpse of bright light a few layers after. A glimmer of hope. I’m about to smile, but I get violently tugged back. I turn around, and I realise my tail fin is caught in one of the tentacles. I pull and wrench, but it seems my luck has run out, and so has my breath. 

I pause, and I try to remain calm. Breathe in, breathe out. I examine my surroundings, and some white objects catch my eye. I squint, and I realise. Tears well up as I pray. 

I count. One, two, three…four…five…six…

Seven.