It started as a quick flight for vacation. I guess you could say the vacation was extended... by 3 years. I'd say 1095 days. I  counted every single one as it dragged by. Some treacherous and painful, some slow and boring. Eating fish, crabs, coconuts, and on a good day some shark meat. It was day 1095 when I finally built up the courage. I pushed the raft out to the water and got on it. I almost didn't want to go. I'd made a home of it, but on the other hand couldn't wait to take a hot shower, shave, have a good meal, and talk to real people. I hoped the airplane's emergency raft would hold up to the rough waters. Paddling for what felt like an eternity wore me out quite quickly so I took a break. THe air was cold and sharp. The smell of salt surrounded me. No land in sight. It was time for another night of restless sleep. I got comfortable. Well… about as comfortable as one can get on an inflatable raft rocking on the ocean waves. I awoke abruptly as the raft began to tip.

     It was almost calming, lying in a little wooden boat floating in the middle of the ocean. The boat was only big enough for me to lie in, and the waves were little, gently pushing the boat forward. To where? I did not know.
    The sight of the ocean surrounded me on all sides; I couldn’t see even the slightest shape of land in the distance. The clear blue sky allowed warm sunlight to shine down on me, casting a warm glow on my surroundings. Perhaps it was the quiet and calming sloshing from the waves or the comforting silence, I felt as if I had no worries in this world. 
    A splash from my right had me up in an instant. My sudden movement made the boat rock, but not enough to make me fall into the water. My eyes carefully surveyed the blue-green water, attempting to catch whatever had made that noise.

Once upon a time there was this small town and there was a big storm coming and there was this boy in his room sleeping hugging his teddy bear then a few moments later  Snap, crackle, pop then the boy woke up then there was a storm coming in so the boy ran to his parents room and told them there's a big storm coming in and there is going to be a big flood. His mom and dad said what do you mean by big flood?" The boy said Flood is like an implacability, because it does not have mercy, we lose everything!! 
 

The room was dark and cold, with broken furniture randomly scattered about. Cold condensation drips down off the ceiling in a pattern Drip, Drip, Drip. Suddenly, I hear a sound in the distance, kind of like a soft song, But I can’t hear any of the lyrics. I start to walk away from the sound because unlike horror movies, I don’t want to die. I'm not quite sure where I am right now so there's no point in not taking it safe, but something inside of me says there is no danger here. I try to walk through the door to leave, but the next room is an exact replica of the other room, with that weird song playing. No matter how many times I try to leave, I just keep ending up in this weird, barely lit room. Eventually, I decide to go into the other room because there is no other place to go. I start walking quietly, but the creaking of the floor would give away my position to anybody around anyways. I peak around the corner and I don’t believe what I see.

When I woke up, it took me a second to realize that I was not in my own bed, but in an airplane over the sea. This is quite ironic, I think to myself as I hum the tune I previously had stuck in my head. I glance out the window to see the miles and miles of abyss that lie ahead. Suddenly the plane takes a sharp turn to the left. I fall to the ground, and quickly pick myself back up. Who’s piloting this thing? I start making my way through the isles of empty chairs and seemingly left behind luggage. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a small red corner peeking out from within the pocket of a chair on my right. With one swift movement, the envelope is now in my possession. Should I open it now? Eh, perhaps not. My mind is left too curious about the still-hidden wonders this plane has to offer. I am now almost near the cockpit, when a sudden chatter stops me in my tracks. I turn my head up towards the overhead bin and find myself making eye contact with a monkey.

IV

The house is eerily quiet, and my footsteps are as loud as my heartbeat when I walk around the living room. It is strangely clean—the sink is empty, the floor vacuumed, and the blankets neatly folded on the couch, yet the atmosphere seems tense and unrealistic. I walk into the kitchen where a flower bouquet peacefully sits on the table, its petals slowly dying, falling off the forest green stem that snakes into the copper vase, oxidized from age to a dead shade. 

Death was on the air, it came in stages, each more definite then the last, unfolding like a dark flower. Hungry, always hungry... First a feeling, the feeling of the cold fog pressing in, its damp fingers brushing his skin, his soul. At first, this startled him. He jumped, slipped, skinned his knee on a rock, swore. He stood up, shaking his hands in a halfhearted attempt to purge them of mud. It was cold, so cold…The clammy breath of the fog brushed the back of his neck, begging him to turn around. He complied...the road had vanished, devoured by the fog, along with the fields, the trees, the… gone, all gone...there was only the river. A plain of unbroken obsidian, hanging still, so still...like death… next came the voices. Soft mummers, barely more then a breath of wind. Drifting across the river toward him. They rose in volume, forming whispers, then voices. Twisting, writhing strings of language. Calling...calling...pleading…calling...he stepped into the river.