Encephalon

By Paislee Helle

The sun beamed down hot on my forehead making me hyper aware of how my body felt under such warmth. Dominantly, I noticed how the sand felt beneath my feet, it acted as microscopic hot stones which continuously prompted me to walk faster along the shore. The waves crashed more vigorously than I, and being alongside them provided a salty relief from the scalding warmth. Though the heat was insufferable I found comfort in its consistency. As I walked the shoreline hand in hand with my mother, I knew I could count on the sun to beam and the water to gleam because of it. The sense of routine found within the pounding of the waves and the shining of the sun provided comfort, with the natural rhythm of the universe humming within me, it lulled me into a fallacious sense of security. I wasn't conscious of it yet, but I felt it somewhere deep inside of me, that things couldn’t stay this way forever. It began with the slight change in the colour of the sky, from a lovely blue to a fuchsia purple which caused my neurons to fire with curiosity. Then the waves began to behave as if they were circling prey, instead of flowing in harmony with the rest of the earth. The sand was no longer a warm sense beneath my feet, but a corrosive boreal that beckoned me towards the swirling currents of the water. I don’t know which it was, the sense of perceived security or the lack of it, but I felt myself being beckoned towards the water by a powerful unknown enchantment. It was an instinctual call, fate some might call it, so I let the hued purple water take me, first my ankles, then my knees, and eventually my whole body. The currents thrashed around me in satisfaction as if I was the intended prey after all, all while my lungs burned, begging for the air they needed to survive. There was an intense moment beneath those waves, one I surmised was similar to that of reaching out and stroking death's cold clammy hand. My body reacted violently, shaking, begging, then nothing. Stillness overcame the currents, silence overcame my mind, and warmth returned to me as it did to the world around me.  A trace of fuchsia lined my fingernails as my hands dug into the warm sandy pebbles beneath me once again. Trying to ground myself, I sat on the shore and tried to summon a sense of understanding, but nothing provoked an answer. I had the fleeting thought that I should seek out my mother, but I knew I wouldn't find her. In those moments I gathered that the currents changed the intricacies of the life I once knew, they swirled the fates, shuffled my realities. Similarly to how a prey animal's heart instinctually begins to  pump blood expeditiously with the anticipation of being chased, I also innately knew the life I led before was no longer reachable. I felt exposed, like I had been sliced open and robbed of all logic and routine. The only place I knew anymore was the waters which claimed me once before, and in my delusions I felt like a disciple who had been sliced open and left pleading to their God. I knelt till my knees bled, till I was bruised and embedded with every grain of sand underneath me, so why did I still kneel? I crawled back into the icy waters which marked me, I was down on my hands and knees, begging to be given back what I felt I had lost. The waters engulfed me once more, elevating all my senses. The salt water shrunk me and caused my skin to prune, the beams of light protruding the water burned my eyes as I registered their beauty. My surroundings acted on their own merit, as if to make me remember that I am here, this is real. I could see my life, my family, my dreams. All etched on the surface of the bubbles glimmering back at me, luring me in so I would rupture the beautiful phenomenon of interference concentrating the light onto the world I thought I knew. I was stuck in a loop never able to grasp my life, always having to sacrifice it. My memories painted the particles of the water surrounding me, iridescent, untouchable, flowing through me like water in my hands. These memories acted as a mirage of hope in a dry desert. I smelled the aroma of peonies similar to my childhood room, I felt the wind in my hair as I rode my first bike, and then my best friend laces her fingers with mine and guides me away, deeper into false memories. I close my eyes, trading the sight of my once kaleidoscopic life for darkness among the waves. When I finally gained the strength, opening my eyes again left me photophobic, the sounds of seagulls echoed in my head, and the swarming winds hitting my cheeks grounded me back into the moment. I began to register the familiar contours of my mothers face, her hand once again in mine, as we trailed the beach the evening before I realized that everything was about to change.

By Paislee Helle