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The Depths Carlisle was a young boy--no older than 10--when he first experienced the great depths of water. His father was his idol and a fisherman, a master angler, really, who worked for Griswold’s Hook, a sport fishing company. It was a summer morning, and Carlisle and his father had just cast-off the rickety wooden dock in the bay. A glowing ball of fire had just begun to crawl above the shimmering blue tide, sending streams of sparkling crystals dancing across the water’s surface. A breeze whispered to Carlisle, but did not yet sing. His father heaved oars--which seemed giant at the time--in and out of the crystal blue, dragging their small vessel through the tide and into open waters to embrace the steady winds. Carlisle leaned over the edge, peering into the unknown depths as crystal transitioned to obsidian. He wondered to himself if fish stared into the light above, curious about a world filled with strange creatures that traveled on land. His father called out to him, something inaudible, lost somewhere between the echo of splashing and his awe-stricken trance. His father spoke again, this time louder, he must have been yelling. Carlisle’s infinite gaze snapped, and he turned to acknowledge the shouts aimed at him. Before his eyes met his father’s he was struck in the temple by the low-hanging boom. The horizon spun rapidly as the waters tumbled upwards to greet him. Before he could gasp he was engulfed in the liquid shadows. The warmth of the water subsided as quickly as he sank, replaced with an icy chill that burned through him while the light above fled from the depths. He panicked, thrashing about heavily and sluggishly. He wanted to cry out for his father, but the oxygen in his lungs would surely be replaced with water. Why did he take off the life jacket his father handed to him on shore? Was it too itchy, too plastic-feeling? Why couldn’t he move faster? What is this disgusting salt in his mouth? Where was the surface again!? Why is it SO COLD!? Suddenly he was in the grasp of something larger than himself, shrouded by darkness. His heart skipped one of its remaining few beats, and he inhaled by mistake. He choked violently, squeezing his chest as the last breath he owned turned to bubbles and spirited away. The water grew warmer by the second, but all he felt was the chill of fear. Even with his eyes shut, he saw daylight as memories flashed against his eyelids. The bike his father got him for Christmas. The time he put hair in his sister’s spaghetti. His mommy cleaning up the blood on his knees, and kissing his bruises to make them all-better. Himself walking down the sidewalk at home, slowly fading off into the distance... The warmth of the sun crashed into his face like a freight train, welcoming him back to life. He gasped, inhaling air like it was his favorite food--pizza. And just like when pigging out on pizza, he choked and vomited, spewing water out of the depths of his soul. Carlisle clung tightly to the shrouded figure, now embroidered in light. It was father. Father hugged him tightly, patting his soaked hair, and whispering to God over and over again. He stared over his father’s shoulder, peering into the abyss that he so narrowly escaped. He thought of the fish, and how terrified they must be when stolen from the depths. How they must gasp so violently for water, as he had for air. Maybe he wouldn’t be a fisherman after-all...
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