Day 50: Describe nearly drowning.

Swim.

You can feel the pressure. It builds in your ears, your lungs, attacking them. You desperately fight, flailing through the water that turns to treacle around your aching limbs. Your mind reels from the shock. A moment ago you were standing on the deck, watching the world go by without a care in it. You had a glass of pinot grigio in your hand, expertly chilled. There comes a succession of loud noises, all of them seeming close than the last, the sound swallowing you like the water that you now inhabit. Your body is pitched into the air, before crashing down into the glassy surface with such force. Lances of pain stab into your joints, your insides, anywhere you can experience it. Your ears are ringing as you hit the chill water below.

Swim.

The strength leaches from your bones, your head broaches the surface and your breath, previously frozen inside you explodes into the night air. Your ears ring, full of echoes of the explosions before. Your eyes flick amongst each piece of burning wreckage. At the edge of your hearing, beneath layers upon layers of ringing, a cacophony created by every single church bell in England chiming in unison, are screams. Yells. It’s as if they are calling to you from the other side of a pane of glass, muffled and distant.

Swim.

Your clothes are dragging you down, a cold hand wrapping its fingers around your body, crushing your body and pulling you down. Your booted feet can find no purchase against the water. You strain against the ethereal grip, fighting with every ounce of strength to keep your head above the surface.

Swim.

The waters close over your head. You become disoriented quickly, unsure which way is up and down. There seem to be faint lights all around you, blips in your vision.

Swim.

You focus on moving the direction you think is up. Your movements are feeble.

Swim.

You try to breathe. You get seawater instead of oxygen.

Swim.

You have only one thought left.

Swim.

Swim.

Stop.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You gasp violently, forcing the seawater from your lungs. You hear muffled conversation over the cacophony of bells still chiming in your ears. You catch a word.

Alive.

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