I write this letter with what few remains of myself, at the mercy on a small boat in the immensity of the black and overwhelming sea, I find myself holding the few of sanity that i still have left and facing the desire to leave in the face of the unimaginable horrors I have witnessed and overwhelming injury that makes my blood go out. The cold, snare water targets my already palpable face like the spits of death in mockery at the end of my futile existence, everything was given while taking away my fishing, the only comfort that was kept to me after the conflagration in our relationship. More and more distant from the coast and soon, from civilization I kept covered in my own imaginary exile, fearless the real possibility of drowning in the treacherous waves that rocked my little boat, a risk but negligible compared to the guilt that had drowned me.
Guided by my tantrum of isolation and exile I took myself to a small rocky island of radiant paradisiacal appearance that was contrary to the morbid storm that soothed the sea. Arriving with heavy treads, immersed in thoughts of guilt and remorse I entered the depression further into the center of the islet, which turned out to be a cave that had widened deeply, producing a chaotic shine with the crimson color.
I was increasingly guiding myself to the dark air, which didn't matter at the moment. Each step echoed more, each step cooled more, each step weighed more, until my body froze the observation of that silhouette, that image, that, that thing. This raw and viscous-looking being was immense, about 7 to 10 meters away, it looked like an anomalous catfish. From his face flowed two large "whiskers" that resembled more tentacles followed by two same minor appendages, they departed from a hideous mouth infested with teeth, which was partially open releasing a freezing breeze from its interior. with 3 pairs of pectoral fins and two dorsals the bizarre creature was at rest, being the only sign of life the slight distressing breeze that eased from his mouth, remaining so until by carelessness of mine, my foot swerves over an especially sharp rock, forming a grotesque cut on my leg, making me roar in pain, what awakens the hideous creature.
Now, awake from her rest, it looks at me with her immense and serene eyes, cultivating a bizarre silence, until out of nowhere the creature starts a bizarre and incessant sound, making me slowly disappear from my body, i felt distant, erased from my own world, i was dead. Briefly, in those seconds that lasted ages, my heart stopped beating, returning only when the creature finally ceased its attempt of bizarre communication, giving me the chance to come back to me, who quickly fall on my knees on the floor, trying to assimilate what was all this, what my poor soul was witnessing. My brain cried out for mercy, throwed there i tried to recompose myself to run, to escape from such a dreadful and repulsive environment, but my own body wouldn't allow it, confining me in shock, watching my blood stain the floor of the cave in a vibrant red.
In that trance I stayed for minutes, long and cold minutes, followed by a horrendous sensation. I felt the touch of the gigantic creature whiskers, like worms they enveloped his bizarre and rugged body under my clothes, without hurry to get hold of my body. Already getting involved in my left arm, I was given the conscience back, nauseated with the disgusting tentacles, my only action was to take a hook from the first pocket to the left of my vest, snapping the beast's sensitive appendage with a quick and deep cut, causing a crimson red liquid to be expelled in my face, while the tentacles retract back to their grotesque bearer. In view of this gap, I started to run, to run like I've never run in my life, like a man in my old age never runned, ignoring the deep cut in my leg as if it were a mere scrape on a child's knee. With impressive strength I pushed the boat back into the water, paddling anywhere far away from that freak.
And from here, with great regret, i say goodbye to my dear angelic, if somebody ever finds this letter in the bottle, lying on some else's beach, immediately look for Angélica, Angélica Silverheart, who once studied at "Slade School of Fine art", and tell her that her now deceased father apologizes for everything.
- Old Murray