|The Day Erik Drowned|
December 6, 2017
Erik was four years old...
It was a nice Texas summer day.
His dad was on vacation, so they decided to hit a local park to enjoy the day. It wasn't as if his dad was really into fishing, it was just somewhere to go, something to do.
The little park was on a tiny peninsula that jutted out into the bay. Way on the other side of the bay you could see the chemical plants and other refineries, which contributed to the financial welfare of 80% of the town's adult population.
They had been there at the park; The Bitch, his sister and his dad. The day before, his dad bought Erik a small red plastic boat and had tied a string on it, so he could pull it along.
The pier was about thirty or forty feet in length and easy for adults to maneuver, but not so for little boys and their plastic toy boats.
Erik was walking the length of the pier, pulling the little red boat behind him, not watching where he was going.
Suddenly there was a splash.
Erik couldn't breath, every time he tried, he engulfed water, which made him feel awfully weird. The water had an odd taste to it too; a mixture of salt water, oil and an unknown flavor of some kind. He saw some fishes dart away from him as he sunk to the bottom. He saw broken beer bottles below and pieces of wood and all sorts of other stuff in the greenish-brown water.
Abruptly there were fingers grabbing the scruff of his neck, grasping at the material of his shirt.
With a powerful woooosh!, he was pulled up and out of the water. He could now feel the wood of the pier under him and somebody pushing on his chest. He could see his sister standing near him, The Bitch over his head, his father pushing on his chest.
He puked up a mix of water and whatever...he coughed a few times and his eyesight cleared up.
"You silly, silly boy..." The Bitch said.
His father picked him up and put him up to his chest, holding him tightly; "You frightened me, son..." his father whispered.
As his father hugged him, he watched as his little red boat floated away.
Many years later, when Erik was twenty-two, he took a trip.
Not your usual sort of trip; his way of travel was a small blotter with a lightening bolt on it.
Sometime during his trip, memories of that day of him drowning came into his electrified brain.
New sensations came to him; faded memories of that day he almost sunk to the bottom of the bay made their ways into his subconscious perception.
With his reframed eyes and heightened perception, he could now see other things; a shadowy something swimming towards him...
...and much later, the experience of reliving the day he drowned had different feelings and sensations: he simply didn't feel the way he, as a little boy felt prior to drowning, he felt somehow different.
No answers to his new questions.
Later the words: "transmigration of the soul," sort of made sense, if only he could figure out just how it worked. And who he had been and who he been and who he was now.