Part 4: The Slothful

It was now obvious to Ryan the sea wasn't going to stop consuming the island any time soon. It was worrisome that it had caught up to Ryan at such a fast pace. Ryan wasted no time making his way down the hill.

Ryan's legs stood heavily into the grass, not quite excited to walk along the rocky ground. But with the ocean's loud crashing waves echoing through the island, adrenaline and fear got hit legs moving.

Step by step, Ryan waddled his way down the hill. The mud was less on this side of the hill, being replaced by sharp rocks and dead grass. The land was slowly morphing more tragic by each glance back at the now towering hill Ryan had just descended.

The ground had now become completely rock. Ryan was no longer waddling at a slope either. The cold rock was covered in still sand.

Ryan could no longer see the paradise he had caught a glimpse of back on top of the hill. Ryan went off his memory. If he remembered correctly, all he had to do was hug the rocky wall far ahead. The cliff was about half a mile away from his current position.

"Not too much of a hassle. Just keep moving. Just keep moving."

Thirty minutes had passed with little progress made toward his destination.

Ryan kept a consistent speed toward the cliffside. He looked back constantly to see the hill begin to disappear into a foggy horizon, and yet the same couldn't be said for his destination.

"Maybe the cliff was farther than I thought."

It felt like two hours had passed with no progress. Ryan was drenched in sweat. The sun had sat high, beating into his back worse than the day he arrived here. Walking was becoming miserable. Each step took the air right out of Ryan's lips.

His legs began to wobble. But yet no results were rewarded for their hard work. Ryan was exhausted. Ryan paused and looked at his surroundings. To his right stood a cave he had never noticed until now.

"Was that there before?"

Ryan looked back to the cliffside and to no surprise, nothing had changed. His instincts pushed his eyes back toward the cave. It dug into the ground like a staircase into a new world. It was out of the sun and looked safe enough. Ryan's legs turned toward it on their own.

Once at the cave, Ryan descended it for about ten feet. It wasn't deep and it ended quite frantically. The shade was cool compared to the beaming sun outside though. Just that was enough to win his heart over.

His feet felt cold against the slick rock sheet. Ryan didn't waste any time sitting down. His legs tingled in relief to not be holding his own weight anymore.

The darkness of the little cave reminded Ryan of his home. It was filled with so many rooms, each with so many lights that never got turned on. Ryan kept all his chaos in his room. His drugs. His cash which was stolen by the hooker he had over that night. Any letters from his brother to remind Ryan he existed when Ryan didn't answer his calls. It was a lot like this cave.

As Ryan shuffled his way into a comfortable position the cave became somewhat nostalgic. Being in a dark hole, alone. No blanket, no pillow, and droplets of water falling from the cave's ceiling, echoing so Ryan couldn't even get a moment of silence.

It started to not matter what position Ryan shuffled in, every position was uncomfortable. The droplets became unbearable to listen to as well.

Ryan looked up at the dark ceiling for a clue to where it was coming from. Then Ryan thought a little harder as he searched.

"Wait. That can't be right."

He sat up to a half-crouch. Ryan's neck turned and popped as his eyes frantically searched for the drops. He made his way slowly back up the cave while keeping his eyes peeled. Ryan had quickly reached a wall of the cave. He wiped his hands along it looking for the exit.

"Had I gone the wrong way? Where did the exit go? Where… what's going on?"

A cold drop fell onto his forehead. Ryan wiped his hand over his face and then proceeded to rub the ceiling above him. It was wet and cold. It didn't sit still as it rumbled and hummed slightly. The realization of what was happening forced Ryan to panic.

"There is water above me. The exit is gone."

His eyes darted around the cave for anything. He made his way back down to where he lay. The ground was getting wetter and harder to walk stably on. The water drops became more frequent with each step he took. Things were changing.

Ryan took his steps carefully as the ground got slicker. The echoing drops turned into echoing waves from all directions. Soon the dark cave was being brightened by the reflections of moving water.

Ryan came to a quick halt. The cave opened up to a wider room that was never there when he first entered the cave. The safety of the ground disappeared and fell into a giant pool of water in front of him.

Unlike the ocean, this water was reflective and clear. As Ryan bent over to stare down into the lake, his reflection came back perfectly like the cleanest of clean mirrors. It sat so still, yet its reflection danced on the walls.

Ryan bent down and scooped his hand along the water. The dried ink that remained from the beach washed off his hands and dirtied the untouched pond. He scooped his hand and brought the water up to his face and gave it a gulp. It was so cold to the touch of his tongue. Although it had tasted a tad like copper, most of it immediately soaked into his dried mouth like a dish sponge.

He took another scoop, then another. Soon enough, Ryan has chugging down handful by handful. He burped and gurgled the water around his mouth.

After several scoops, he realized handfuls weren't enough. Ryan ducked his head into the water and began taking in large gulps. He only came up for air, then he went back to drinking the pond clean.

By his fourth breath break, he had noticed a tickle around his neck. He stopped as drops drizzled off his face and back into the pond. The splashing echoed throughout otherwise silent cave. As the water rippled, Ryan stared deep into the clear reflection. It rippled as strange and unfamiliar shapes began to form.

The skin around his neck began to become concerningly pale. Soon the ripples formed shapes which became clear to Ryan. The shapes formed fingers with the cleanest nails Ryan had ever seen.

The skin began to burn around his neck. Pressure started to build as Ryan threw his hand around his own neck, not able to look away from the water.

He couldn't feel anything. The hand in the water was indeed squeezing his neck, but there was not a single physical finger upon him that wasn't his own. Ryan was starting to choke.

Not once within the struggle did Ryan lift his eyes off the water. It sat so still as he wrestled his own hands around his neck. He searched for anything to relieve the choking, any motion within the range of the water.

Ryan's nose got brought closer and closer to the cave pond. His vision began to go dark. He wasn't in control of his own body. The water felt so cold as it rushed up to his nose and soon around his burning forehead.

Everything went black so quickly as the cold water consumed his upper body. He flipped and turned but his throat kept being pushed farther and farther down into the endless cave pond.

And thus, his glass was only half full, and he wanted more wine. The people around Ryan's table were wearing suits and nice watches, just like him. The jazz music shoved people into their seats to hold calm conversation. Ryan looked back toward his brother who sat across from him and lifted his glass.

"This wine is pretty shit for what, uh, you're paying."

The brother looked toward Ryan with a calm demeanor.

"At least call me by my name Ryan."

Ryan waved his hand toward a waiter and lifted his glass. After glancing around Ryan turned back to respond.

"Well, it's been twenty years Blake. You know that."

A waiter arrived at Ryan's side with a new bottle of wine. Ryan watched as the man poured it into his glass. The liquid coming out did not match the dark red already in half the glass, yet a completely reflective and clear liquid.

The water began to walk away as Ryan waved his hand to regain his attention to only be interrupted by his brother.

"You haven't been home in so long. How do you think I feel? I mean, mom is getting sick constantly."

Ryan began to wave his glass in his hand to create a small whirlpool. The wine had begun to turn completely clear. As his brother continued speaking, Ryan zoned out at his glass. His long glances snapped when his brother threw his wallet onto the table.

"I would like to pay and leave. This was a waste of my time." Blake said with shaking rage.

Blake paid and got up from the table. Ryan continued sat still, soaking in the thought that his wine was clear.

"Should I drink it? Is it poisoned?"

Then his thoughts took a different route.

"Isn't alcohol poison anyways? Maybe if I take it with a pill, it will make it oh so much more digestible."

Ryan snuck his way out of the restaurant and to his car with the glass in hand, still twirling in his fingers. The lights began to become brighter as cars left neon trails behind them.

As the glass turned in his palms, Ryan stared deep into the busy street. Not once did Ryan sip at the glass. It quickly became a fidget toy as his brain wandered.

All was calm yet chaotic. So many lights and flashing colors. So many cars and people walking. Although one from the crowd stood out. A man in a suit yelled at the top of his lungs in Ryan's direction. The glass began to become lighter in weight as Ryan's brain began to lift past his head.

"Hey, fuck head!"

The figure began sprinting toward Ryan. Ryan reacted with a stumble and tripped himself into his own car. The door slammed at the same time and the engine rumbled. Ryan's head smashed into the steering wheel.

Ryan shuffled his head across the white cloth of a table. His eyes felt so heavy and the loud distractions left the space he was in only seconds ago. As Ryan forced his eyes open, he saw a figure standing above him. He lifted his head and his neck cracked. The figure wore fancy work attire and was holding a glass.

The man was a waiter had made strong eye contact with Ryan. The waiter set the glass onto the table cloth that was wrinkled in the shape of Ryan's messy head. And without a single word, the waiter walked off and disappeared into the faceless, crowded restaurant.

Ryan turned back toward the chair his brother once sat at to notice its emptiness. The only thing that filled the table was the silverware and the strange glass.

The liquid within it was once again suspicious. It was clear to the point of being invisible, minus the distortion beyond the glass. Ryan reached his hand out for the glass but to a surprise, his hands shook quite rapidly. It was out of Ryan's control. As his hand stood inches from the glass, it wouldn't manage to make the final stretch to the glass.

Ryan dropped his elbows back down onto the table out of frustration. He eyed down for the waiter in hopes he would take pity on the rich man and scoot the glass just that much closer. As to no success, Ryan searched around for another solution.

The silverware touching his elbow gave Ryan another chance. He unraveled the silverware out of the red napkin while his hands began to shakes worse than before.

His hands continued to shake worse and worse as he gripped the silver steak knife in his right palm. His knuckles got white from the sheer concentration Ryan had forced into his arm. Using his left hand, Ryan pushed his right arm in the direction of the glass. Each inch forward was another quake of shakes in his hands. It became uncontrollable.

The knife began to clip the side of the glass. Its clattering was that of a sword battle between two knights. The glass began to tip and very calmly fell onto the cloth.

The knife in his hand fell onto the soaking cloth as it got the honor of drinking the clear wine. Ryan threw his hands onto his eyes and began to cry.

Ryan's eyes drenched out tears as he gasped in utter pain. His shaking got worse as he tried to wipe his eyes only to look like a cowering idiot. Ryan soon became exhausted. His eyes closed as the last of his tears leaked away.

It was dark. It was so quiet. It was so much like the death Ryan imagined. But there was something in his eye and he had to get rid of that itch. It was bothersome. The itch that couldn't be ignored.

As Ryan opened his eyes again, he realized the immense pressure outside of them. He couldn't breathe. His chest felt so heavy as he needed to gasp for air. He was drowning underwater.

Ryan opened his mouth, releasing bubbles of panic from his throat. They floated off to the left. Ryan followed them with his eyes. He began to thrust his hands in the direction of the bubbles.

Without too much effort, Ryan had broken the surface of the water. He flailed his arms violently and gasped for air, choking on the water that had snuck into his lungs.

He kicked his limping body onto the cold rocks and curled into a pathetic ball as he coughed up the remaining water in his throat. Ryan searched around only to recognize the familiar cave. The water he had just emerged from was creating dancing lights along with the cave ceiling.

Ryan's legs shivered as he found the strength to stand to his feet. He gripped at his arms and began to waddle up the only exit.

The ground got steeper and warmer as Ryan took each small step. Soon, light began to illuminate the walls once again. A bright, vibrant red flickered into Ryan's eyes as his vision adjusted to the outside world.