I don’t think I slept properly.
Daisy didn’t come back to the inn until morning. He said he’d met someone local and stayed the night. I didn’t ask many questions, but later he said something about a fish disease, and I decided that was enough information for one day.
The rest of us met Chris Pringle again at the Canton Inn. He looked worse than he had the night before. He told us more people were missing, not just townsfolk, but his crew as well. He said their names like he was afraid they might disappear if he didn’t keep saying them.
Breakfast was served.
It was raw fish, seaweed, and something that might have been wood. I didn’t eat much. Daisy, however, discovered a machine that makes toast. Real toast. He worked it out completely on his own. The bread came out perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look prouder.
While we ate, the people working there talked to us. They spoke about wanting to be part of something bigger. Something important. Something joyful. They smiled when they said it, like they were sharing good news. They invited us to the town hall.
Chris didn’t like that idea, which made me like it less.
The town hall was in bad shape, sinking slowly into the sand like it was trying to escape. Inside, we found records. Lists. Names. Dates. They called them baptisms. There was a stairway leading down into the dark, flooded below.
Daisy sent one of his magical eyes ahead. We watched through it as it drifted down into the tunnels. That’s when we saw what they meant by becoming more.
There was water down there. Not ordinary water. It glowed, softly, like it was pleased with itself. A person was held over it and pushed under. They struggled. They came back up changed. Their fingers were webbed. Their eyes were empty. Whatever they had been before was gone.
Chris recognised one of them.
Mike. One of his crew.
I don’t think I’ll forget the sound Chris made when he realised we were too late.
That’s when it really settled in for me. This wasn’t just killing people. It was erasing them. Washing away who they were, who they loved, who might be waiting for them somewhere. I kept thinking about you, Mum. About home. About how easy it would be for someone to say I should be something more, something better, and how wrong that would be.
They call it waking up.
It looked like losing everything.
We decided we couldn’t leave the rest of them down there. We started making plans to go into the caves and stop it. Even I felt angry, properly angry, which doesn’t usually happen. I don’t like hurting people. But this wasn’t about fighting. It was about stopping something that should never have been allowed to start.
Bawbaggings stayed behind. He said he was disguising himself as a coat stand. I didn’t see him again, but several coats went missing, so I assume he’s fine.
We’re going into the tunnels next.
I’m scared. But I’m more scared of what happens if we don’t go.
I miss you.
I miss being small.
I miss a world where water is just water.
Love,
Comments are closed, but trackbacks and pingbacks are open.