Wildly Misread's
The Ridge
By Randall Johnston
(Story As Is)
Excerpt - Anvil
An Anchor on The Ground
"Sink so I may see you do the same, anvil." I'm waiting for the crushed sarcophagus to break apart from the pressure. "You have been gone a long time." My eager waiting is weighing my mind down because of impatience. Startled abruptly by the small enclosure. At a touch, immediately knowing the surrounding encasement is brittle, the water will get in. "You have been gone a long time." Matches, damp. "Shit." It sparked, then sizzled burned out to carbon. Leaving me with the clear visual of a downed hope, "Okay, I've been drinking." Where the fuck am I? "Curious, you'd choose a frigate to cross the ocean." Kicking my enclosure for the coffin tin to open. "Hey, this isn't funny. I got fucking claustrophobia." I'd rather die than meet my old friend. This might as well be a trash receptacle rummaging about as much as I can within the meek container. They really didn't give me a chance. I feel the cold of metal near my ankle and start dragging it up. Shuffling and shifting the ammo casing up the side of my waist, grasping it and feeling jubilation at the relief of it being a flashlight. With me nearing the end of my plummeting wound weight. I'm worried about this doubt they intended me to have, reaching the bottom. "Our time is running out, but don't treat this as not a sprint." The man-made box, the coffin tin with nails in it. Hard seal to break, scratching at it, and some mucky soil covered the lid. I haven't the memory of an event that would land me here. I knew that they hated me. I just didn't think they'd leave me in less than a safe. The pressure weighing on my lungs. It must be deep, which means they didn't discount me on the living expense considering I had nothing of value to the crew, not above anymore. Angling the warmth of a lightbulb at my feet, I hope for checked batteries that are still full. Clicking the switch, it flashes, flickers and turns off. I grumble and hit the side of it. "Heavens." It was probably the gambling that did this one in. The last thing I remember is being dragged away from a flipped table. Yeah, that'll do it. "I didn't hear a thanks." The ominous tones of a crackling sparkler, "Darkness, how much time do I have?" I ask, thinking your not getting it. "Less now." Circumvented a way to reach what's left of your depiction and finally rid you from my own disaster you so selfishly fed upon. "I know what your thinking. I hear them plain as day, and you don't know what day it is, do you?" I know I have enough substance to go peacefully. The toxicity could turn this into a less than pleasant experience for him when I've reached the ground floor of the ocean, "No man may breathe." He'll have too much fun at the feast. And this isn't affordable to me. I shatter the glass to get at the filament inside the torch. "Calm? Closed eyes. Dirt, pungent." I open them to the dark cedar container while using my teeth with the space left for my hands. "Now you're with me, right? I'm not planning on going back up. I won't do it." Ripping the seams of my pocket, then shredded the sleeve of my shirt with my teeth. This is the only kindling useful within a stride of strife. The fuel, I need a flammable, "Hey, you reside in my head, right?" Searching my pockets that aren't ripped. "Entirely so." Gracious gratuity at the docks before joining the ship's crew for menial labour at a low price, I've lost more before. "Then I'll choose how we die." I spark the thread and thin cloth keeping me busy. I can hear drips at my feet and feel the water pooling up past my ankle dripping in quicker through the creaking boards. At some point, I'll be standing up and then choking on the water bottled up. There's that noise again. "Hey, what's outside circling me?" The faintest noise of gliding fish fins and then the impact, crunching the bottom boards filling up faster. "Do you think it's me?" They didn't bury me at the right place. The descent didn't last long. "Not in the slightest." I say unabridged and enthusiastic. The noise it's us. "Want to gamble?" Thwack, lint sparkles like his cackle and the crackle of his voice laughing and talking. "No." The sea creature splinters the wood at the smack off the side of this block of lumber. Limited time, the water spurting forth the pressure I'd expect of where I thought I'd land and the level already above my knee. Directly affecting my ability to breathe, pummeling my chest and waring down the lung. The drenched plywood dampened, this will give out, and it'll be the last needed. "If you had done less, would you be happy?" I consider the notion, while my blood flow spikes and I feel my heartbeat faster, "I'm a bit preoccupied. Enraptured by this being the end." I was right. No light down here. Not a shred of it. "I'd love to gamble. Do you see what I see?" I open my eyes to a fire still burning. Laughing at my adversary, I had tried desperately to get away from it. "This is the moment where you forget what you're worth. Can you feel my pain?" The skin roasting at the cuff of my sleeve smudged in kerosene, acting as the main ingredient, the basis for a shortened life span clocking out to the final edge of time. I hear him whimpering. Lasting as mine most alive. Still so bright, chock-full of esteem and the next part of this, I'll be careless enough to enjoy, "Hey, just wait till it's more than a burning s'more landing on us." I shout light heart saying what he doesn't want to hear. He wanted demise with no end. Now I invite chaos. Just about to suffocate, I keep breathing heavily for the short supply. Immense relief because of a thin space. Just about to suffocate, I keep breathing that short amount of air for immense relief from the desire of the toxins shorting out my lung. I hope this works...
"The chalk still fitted to my nails after spreading the clump. The smell of cloth burning to ash gives us a quick death, under the loss of consciousness." So I say with the fervour of a remarkable telling of the tale, Anvil. "Puking out my guts into three garbage bins next to my bed. Man, I'm still wasted. Oh, god. It's a boat. It's a boat." A few kids laugh while others are focused on me for how blunt the story is; they obviously haven't been talked to about subject matters like this. My s'more catches fire and drops in the firepit. Refraining to a silent curse, just in my head. "Hey, Reggie. What the hell? No, change the subject matter. "What? I ended it with them towing me up. It's not like a boat full of murderers...