Into the Void: The Whimpering Depths Of The Ocean

"The truth that you seek to fathom lies so deep
in the abyss of the eternal law,
that it is cut-off from every creature's sight."

Dante Allighieri
Paradiso

1- The Whimpering Depths Of the Ocean

A soft whisper of turbulence, stuttering and staggering the mind and heart brings a barely perceptible light to her eye; as she reinvents her escape by submission to what must be--for now, perhaps forever.

She is a brid. She was given the name Ocean by a woman she was certain had loved her, like a mother. It did not seem to matter to Mouse that, by what bold miracles had sought to engineer a wholly new creature--like any art, high or low, had merely replicated the soft spun religion or nature into something that, perhaps, should never have been at all.

She would ne'er be forgiven any form of weapon to her hand that may have prevented this, for her dreams had become civilized. There were no memories or experiences of how to deal with violence. She was a newborn creature, which craved only growth and enlightenment. Given to a certain sense of painlessness, she may even have believed that she desired to give It what It wants, until she realized that what it truly wanted was her pain and suffering. If for no more than an hour, a day, perhaps a week, it deigned become her lord and master. It wanted to hear her cry, to beg and plead for her life. Ocean did not know who He was, or how He could ever want these things from her.

He was like a violent artifact of creation, the misbegotten. Her heart longed to believe that He was an abomination, some freak sequence of DNA or of misbreeding. That He had been born outside of natural law, with no direct comprehension of herself, that perhaps she may be the freak.

That He might, one day, caught and punished for these crimes absolved and consoled her, if only for a moment, as He entered her again. The pain was ne'er quite so severe when he was distracted by His lust. She did not really know how long she had been in this terrible place, as often as she had mercifully lost consciousness, only to be returned here again... given back to Him, like some mortally designed version of Hell. She was uncertain to what degree his desire for release played into her capture, nor even what had first tempted Him to act. She could not understand why it was that He hadn't merely taken what he wanted, and then left her for dead. Her odds of survival would probably not be good, if that was what He decided. Eventually, she knew that it would have to end, somehow, though she could not be so certain that she might survive it. An end, any end, seemed sufficient for now.

She cried out, again and again, as she felt some rich, fierce and savage, tearing into her spine and then her shoulder. She realized, at some point indistinct, that He was stabbing her.

It was almost over now.