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No longer of the living
. . . back
I must say that it's a strange experience to wake up drowned. When you scream you realise you're breathing in water and you can't feel it... it makes you want to scream again but there's no release. Just more water, more water spinning down your throat like air. And that alone told me. Told me I was no longer of the living. It seems a strange thing to think when I am on the bed of the canal, underneath a bridge only minutes from my home. But I instinctively know that I can never go back.
Somehow I have no grief, no sadness, I am suddenly detached from my old life... it's a new start. But a new start in which I need to spend the entire day under water as to avoid the blinding sun that cuts through the water just metres away. I can feel the cold water biting into my skin but it's not an unpleasant feeling, as a human I would liken it to the warmth of the sun on your arms though the memory of that feeling fills me with a burning fear. I move my arm through the water in front of me, it ripples in front of me, dancing and swirling. I suddenly understand the unspeakable beauty of the natural world but with that knowledge comes a niggling hunger fighting for attention.
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