Two by two, the dead walked out of the sea,

the tired waters swinging in a steel gate tempo.

Barefoot shadows spread on white sand -

fistfuls of water running in rivulets of sorrow.

Hair dripping and eyes glazed, struggling

into the silence of promising light beckoning

ocean’s tent covered sins, washed bones,

sea sweating and soaking their brows,

broken fingernails and wrinkled skin.

Ocean waxed calm and hearts answered,

the dead contained in bubbles of sea eyes

as they trudged through turtle shell seas,

butterscotch moon’s scaffold sheltering

fetid whisky breath and rheumy eyes,

meeting maker in drops of nevermore -

death a companion of watery guests.

a ship frozen over in the swarming sea of Cocytus This ship half way deep 

in the swirling crimson sea, frothed with snowflaked petals and murderous icicles protecting its core, a ruby scepter splitting through the earthen crevasses. A woman fully clothed in a sheet of ice, white roses adorned her head, her lips tinted red from the warmth received from the suns hospitality and eyes tucked to sleep she was stored underneath the boat a sleeping siren, she held in her hands a wooden cross weaving in out of her opaque hands , a sweet song churned through the waves of the lonely sea 

mistrusting eyes 

a gallant giggle 

a ghostly whisper, a daunting howl 

a scar slashed through an old man scowl 

a crew man's whistle 

brooding breast 

daughters of the ocean

a dagger dipped in warm blood 

a pirates booty 

a lady in waiting

Whistles to creaking floorboards of the ship

That burped through the waters

What happened to this ship that fell asleep in the arctic ocean

In the year of 1716

It was a stormy night the wind howled, the sky was a bruised purple it bleed a deeper red, the clouds a midnight black mixed with gray, the moon a stranger dancing in between the cracks of the sky, the air cold and thick and dragged out like cigars, the ocean shook with anger from the beating it was enduring from a wild captain named crossbones , a scar slashed upon an old man's scowl , he raped and pillage the sea of its earthenware riches , he and his crew traveled through each land gathering up the booty ( treasure of the land) and leaving the land naked and unearthed they were looking for the maiden encased in ice, the ocean daughter that held all the riches of the world . The ocean grew hungry tired and angry lurking around the corner for my trespassers to devour, now the earth had conversed with the ocean and had told the ocean about this crew that pillaged the earth of her beauty and her riches and her people were hungry and the ocean had told her about the crew that killed her sirens, and turned her waters a crimson red , her water wallowed murder and sin floated with bones of the lost crew of evermore 

they wandered her wanders and built dams to link the ocean with her rivers and lakes that she birthed, but they died in her hurricane that she created to cleanse herself of its residue of the wreckage that burned her waters with fire and anger 

the ocean encased the dead 

the suicidals 

the murders 

the slaves 

the adventures 

the nobles 

children 

and 

her 

daughters 

her 

dear 

sirens 

the ocean was lonely and craved the taste of human flesh 

the ocean craved specifically cross bone and his crew 

the ocean conquered and devoured 

now her daughters 

sing at the entrance of ocean 

 The dead walked out of the sea ( repeat 5x's )

if you  hold the key ye shall be free 

take a knee 

and surrender to the sea 

or flee

beg mercy 

and ye shall 

see 

the

ocean 

is 

for 

men 

not 

little 

boys 

brave

the deadly 

waters 

and 

embrace 

her 

current 

"Is this the best you could do?"

Tom looked at his wife’s silhouette against the setting sun. Even after ten years, he still couldn't tell if she was bluffing. Or, maybe he simply pretended to put on a look of dismay every time.

"Ah..." he started, one hand scratching his head, the other on his hip. "I overheard you chatting with mum the other day about missing the ocean..." his apologetic tone was too convincing.

"And people say I have the poker face," she grinned, pulling herself into his warm embrace. "I love it," she whispered into his waiting ear. "You're the best."

"I know." He nodded, wrapping her snugly. "How does that saying go again? I can't do any better—"

"—she can't do any worse," she completed his sentence. "Ass," she quipped, punching his chest.

"Ow," he said, not bothering to conceal his cheeky smile. "Hey," he suddenly said. "I got an idea!" A solemn expression replaced his cheerful disposition.

She watched her husband get down on bended knee. "Candace Wong..." he said, reaching for her right hand. "Would you do me the honor..." he tried to suppress a smile, "of being the first couple we know of," he stressed the last three words, "to go skinny dipping on Preston Beach?"

Candace feigned a blush, flapped her face in a way only an Arts undergraduate majoring in drama could rival. "I will," she said, her eyes filled with tearless joy.

They soon got their kits off, one after the other, waist deep. Water splashed. A giggle here and there, interspersed with lusty exchanges of hot, passionate kisses. Then suddenly, a rogue wave crashed above their heads. There was a fleeting moment of panic, when Candace resurfaced but couldn't see Tom anywhere. But he reemerged a second later from behind, grabbed her, and scared the living daylights out of her.

"That's not funny, Tom," she scolded. "I'm serious!"

He stood there, his smile slowly dissipating as he realized she was for real. “I’m sorry, sweet,” he said, wading over to where she was, cupping her face. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “I’m getting hungry.”

She nodded.

They were out of the water moments later. Tom had sacrificed his shirt for them to dry off. Candace was busily wringing her brunette locks when she realized a third presence on the beach.

“Oh my God!” she cried out.

“Oy! Get the fuck out of there!” Tom went berserk at the boy, no older than ten, standing there with his eyes devouring the scene that had unfolded. Undoubtedly, this would’ve been his first experience seeing a grown woman naked to the bone.

“Tom,” Candace, now fully dressed, came up behind her husband, pulling on his arm. “He’s just a boy…”

“Boy or not,” Tom said, then paused when the pre-teen turned around and darted off, back into the bush. “Bah, stupid kid.”

Candace peered through the natural partition, thinking to spot a tent, or caravan of some sort, maybe a campfire. “There,” she pointed. “We should go. You should apologize for being a jerk.”

“Whaaaat?” Tom raised his arms. “Seriously? I wasn’t the one perving at someone else’s wife naked.”

She was already pulling him up the sand. “Come on Mr Wong,” she said, “The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can undress me again…” she winked.

It didn’t take them long to locate the campsite. Several adults appeared huddled around the boy they had seen earlier. His arms were animated, as if attempting to convey an unbelievable story.

“Your boy’s at it again Damo,” one of the adult men said. He then got up, and took a swig of his stubby. “Maybe he’d been having a few too many sips out of yours,” he laughed.

“Shut your hole Andy,” the boy’s father retorted. “Nate couldn’t have made it up, he doesn’t have one of those fancy screen-things with the news and shit.”

“There’s the radio.” Andrew shrugged.

“Are you fucking serious?” Damien said.

“Dad…” young Nathan tugged his father’s jumper, then pointed to where Tom and Candace stood. “That’s them!” he said excitedly.

“Where’s who?” Damien asked, straining to see anything but sand and native vegetation.

“The dead man and woman,” Nathan said.

Andrew laughed out loud, and started jeering with obscene gestures.

“Go and annoy your sister, mate…” his father said annoyingly. “Go. Now!”

Candace and Tom were flabbergasted. Both standing like statues, completely lost for words. Tom was quick to gather his wits, and was about to put one foot forward but felt a firm hand on his chest. Eventually, he relented, and turned his attention to his wife. He followed her eyes, firstly connected with his, then slowly, down to the ground, and back to the spot where they had came through the bush.

“I don’t get it…” he said, studying her face. “What—”

“Footprints, Tom,” she said.

He swung his head again, looking carefully. There was only one set.

The dead walk out of the sea in the middle of December. Skin hanging from their muscles like drapes. Muscles slowly deterating. They barely walk at all as if they are frozen by the winters air. A young couple watches from the balcany of an abandoned beachhouse. She turns to him and says "this isn't working they show be moving faster than this" he replies with a sick smirk on his face "I  know I thought I would give you a head start" "Danny what the fuck?" she gasps "every hour you waste they get faster" he says looking ahead "they will find you. They are on every beach in the world" "Why" she asks as she grabs her bag "It doesn't matter. Oh yeah and by the way only you can see them"

The dead walked out of the sea—Sandy and Haley looked at each other in horror. Sandy shoved the large book back into Haley’s hands.

“This was totally your fault! I am out of here!” Her eyes were wide was they watch more and more dead walk towards them.

“This is not my fault! You’re the one that said ‘hey, let’s read from this page’ and so we did.” Haley shoved the book back at Sandy. They were screaming at each other now.

“Yeah, but this is your great-great-great grandfather’s book. You’re the one who went into the forbid library and took it!” Sandy was backing away from Haley who was still holding on to the book.

“You were right beside me! You even picked the lock!” For a moment, both had forgotten about the dead. They were too worried about petty things. There was a clearing of a throat which made both girls freeze.

They turned around as slowly as they could, undoubtedly realizing this is where they were going to die. They were surrounded by a sea of dead sailors. Some in uniforms, others in rags. Men and women, all whom died at sea.

“When ye Masters are done arguin’ we’d like to know our orders.” Sandy and Haley pointed to each other and said,

“She’s the Master.”

“You called us forth unto a great battle—your ship is ready to sail when you are.” Another voice piped up. This one was dressed in a Navy uniform from the 1940s.

“Well, well, well, it looks like Raymond Janak’s kin has finally decided to finish what he started centuries ago.” A voice whispered from the billowing clouds carried by the wind. Haley hung her head—she knew she shouldn’t have stolen the book.

She looked over to Sandy who was poking a finger through one of the men. Her finger when right through him. He smiled a toothless grin at her.

“Look—they’re like ghosts. I can put my whole hand through him!” Haley about puked when Sandy showed her. Another voice spoke up,

“Once on the ship we are whole again, and I wouldn’t suggest trying to put your hand through that one. He tends to bite.” Haley looked at the speaker—who happened to have a severed arm.

“When you say whole—do you mean entirely whole?” All the while glancing at the bone sticking out where his arm should have been.

“Enough! Let’s get them to the ship. We must set sail before the others catch up. Within seconds the dead hoisted the two girls up and walked back into the sea.

We were foolish to think we could fight her; the floor, now lined to my forehead, was a painfully clear message of this. Blood gushed out of my mouth via coughs. My vision was blurring, my consciousness, fading, but I kept my working eye on her as she pressed forward. 

"I would have been taking a bath right about now if it weren't for you people."

She complained while pitter-pattering her soft flats across the glossy ground. The black tiles shined bright from the blood oils of my comrades; a sight most would be horrified to see, but she merely stepped over and around like the puddles weren't there. Because of this, her every step gave the impression of an approaching death sentence. 

I couldn't help but draw sharpened breaths of fear. They were right about her; her mana mastery level was just insane, beyond insane; unfair and impossible. 

Seeking that power, some people already in power tried to extract it from her, but their stupid actions manifested a villain. Now us innocents had to deal with the afterimage and we weren't dealing too well either.

"Oh. I have an idea," she beamed. "Why don't I just bring the bathtub... to me." Her words evoked a dangerous blue glow in her eyes and the sleek floor became grainy at my face. I turned my head as much as I could and felt bits of sand stick to my face. A vast pool of water surrounded her feet, but also all the bodies lying along her trekked path. One by one they sunk, and bits of my hope deteriorated with every submersion I watched. 

She could summon elements too?! and so quickly, at that! What was this woman? 

She faced the water and gave a childish bubbling laugh. For a moment she did nothing but play in her lonesome splashing kicks. Then all of a sudden her hyper aura vanished and she put a palm to the water surface. It glowed. Raising her hand, she held strips of water like they were a submerged bouquet of flowers. She slugged the grip of water over her shoulder and started walking back in my direction, towards the shallower section of her mini ocean. 

My eyes and mouth widened, slow and powerful like the shock of a wave. The dead... my friends, my brethren, unknown heroes, and ancient history-book faces were rising from the sea, walking out with the guided help of liquid leashes. In her hand she held the wet bundle of them all, an army's worth of deceased, all under her control.

I let my eyes close. Even if I found the strength to move now, there'd be no way to fight back, her or her battalion. I gave up.

Moments later I felt the pull of my hair as my body rose from the ground. When I opened my eyes, they were square to hers. 

"I'm going to go kill the idiots who made me a monster... do you want to come?" She cocked her head to the side to emphasize her question mark. I looked at her, really looked at her. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I witnessed first-hand just how much of a psychopath she truly was... 

A psychopath was fine...

In fact, a psychopath was what they needed.

I smirked and shut my eyes.

"Fine." I answered. "let's give them hell."

She giggled and threw my body upwards. When I fell back down to just the right level I saw her hand for an instant before it slammed into my face, then my head hit the ground so hard I probably died on the spot. If not, then the water surely drowned me, either way, I died. 

Then revived, of course. Just in time for the fun part.

Surf rips apart the shoreline

Sand castles by day light

Erode back into the sea

Wave after wave

Walks onto the beach

Deposits the dead for us to see

Undertow steals back life

Tides rinse away the horror

Decorations burn in the sand

Cast a line into the depths

For hope life still swims

As the dead walk out of the sea

~ADayDreamWriter

I had a dream one night. I was holding hands helping a dead person walk out of the sea. She was newly dead and confused, but I was not, I was her guide. We walked along the sandy bottom as we looked up at the waves crashing above us. Huge waves curved above like huge clouds do on earth. I reassured her clinging tightly to her hand. We said nothing. She and I both wondered how we 'breathed.' She had recently drowned but I was there for her. We walked out of the sea. Into the light of day there were sparkles of shimmering fireflies amidst rainbows and love. Total pure love surrounded her family and children who waited for her. It was so overwhelming tears were not required. This unimaginable surreal real situation is there for those who walk out of the sea. 

The bodies washed up from the sea

Everyone watched them come

Wondering what manner they be

Of species long since done

Who could believe their numbers vast

Dripping and sleek, but not surpassed

Who could believe

Who could believe

Such creatures bold, that didn't last

The bodies washed up from the sea

No one could tell from where

The vastness beyond might not be

The place that they called their lair

How had they died so far from home

Away from where they used to roam

How had they died

How had they died

Yet left their imprint in the foam

The bodies washed up from the sea

Creatures majestic all

No longer were they swimming free

They'd left with nature's fall

Why had it come, this tragic end

What had it served or did portend

Why had it come

Why had it come

This event that we could not mend

#challenge #conservation #nature #whales #trijenrefrain